


So You Think You Can Destiel Part Two

by RivetingRedPants



Series: SYTYCD Verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-16 03:44:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3473195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RivetingRedPants/pseuds/RivetingRedPants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas were happy, until that damn show had to come between them. Cas gets called back to Vegas to be an Allstar in the new season of everyone's favorite dance show, leaving his new husband in Kansas. When Dean goes through a traumatic experience, Cas has to choose which is more important to him, the love of his life, or the show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can't Find My Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> I missed it so I made a part two . . . . Also, this is going to be very different than part one. I wrote part one because I wanted to write something happy and fluffy and sweet. I'm writing this because I miss writing this fanfiction, but also because I have dark sad thoughts. I don't know EXACTLY where this is going, but I have an idea, and it's gonna head somewhere dark. So (As much as it pains me to discourage you from reading this) if you're happy with all the happiness in the first part, just . . . stick with that. This will still have plenty of happy cute moments, but there's a crapton of sadness too. And because I'm not going to do warnings every chapter, and I'm terrible at warnings anyway, the warnings I am for sure posting are that there will be rape, and (once again) sadness and feels. So. Let the pain commence!

Chapter One: Can't Find My Way Home

Castiel:

Castiel looked over to the cellphone on his nightstand. He took a deep breath and sat up on the edge of the bed. It was time, he was set to go to Vegas in three days, and Dean wasn't going with him this time. Castiel tried to push that thought out of his mind. Dean rolled onto his stomach in his sleep and his hand flopped lazily against Castiel's side, warm and insistent.   
“Combacktobehhhh” Dean grumbled, still half asleep.   
“I have to start packing eventually, Dean.” Castiel said, smiling down at the hand pressing up against him.   
“Nooooooo.” Sleepy Dean whined. Castiel brushed his fingers along Dean's and Dean's hand reached out to lace his fingers through Castiel's. “Stayinbedddd” Dean groaned. Castiel had gotten used to Dean's morning language, it was like a different form of English. All of Dean's words blurred together into one long sentence combined with groans from having to wake up. Dean was not a morning person, after all. Suddenly, Dean's grip hardened and yanked Castiel back into the bed so fast Castiel yelped in surprise. Dean wrapped himself around Castiel like an octopus and squeezed him so tightly Castiel couldn't even begin to get free. Castiel chuckled and hugged his husband back.   
“Deannnnn I have to-,”   
“No!”   
“Dean you're being childish!” Castiel struggled half-heartedly and then there were warm lips pressing up against his neck, and most of the struggle went out of him. He sagged back down into the mattress. “Well. Maybe a few more minutes wouldn't hurt anything . . .” Castiel mumbled, biting his lip.   
“For what I have in mind, we might need more than a few minutes, angel.” Dean whispered, hot and insistent against his ear. Cas groaned.   
“Damn you and your vile ways, temptress!” Castiel shouted, struggling once more. Dean kissed Castiel's collar bone.   
“Babe it's too early for all that fancy talk.” he bit down, as if to prove his point and Cas shuddered. Dean's fingers dipped underneath his shirt and danced over his skin, and Cas arched up into the coziness, into the habit of it all. They had been married only a few months, but in some ways their relationship felt like an eternity to Castiel. He clung to Dean, fingers digging slightly into his shoulders as Dean's lips melted into his.   
“I don't want to go.” Castiel whispered, as if afraid of the confession himself. “Not if you won't be with me.” He sighed as Dean kissed his nose lovingly.   
“I'm always with you.” Dean breathed against his lips. Castiel chuckled.   
“You're always so cheesy.” But he felt himself grow warm and happy at the idea.   
“That's how I'm always with you. I'm melted cheese stuck to the bottom of your shoe.” Castiel squinted up at Dean, and for a moment said nothing.  
“What kind of cheese?” Castiel finally asked. Dean laughed.   
“Either a sharp cheddar or Munster cheese.” Dean said, trying to act serious. Castiel just chuckled and surged upwards to kiss him again.   
“You're such a dork.” He told him in between kisses.   
“It's okay, you're a nerd.” Dean said, fingers in Castiel's hair.   
“I love you, Dean Winchester.” Castiel lifting Dean's shirt off over his head and throwing it to the ground.   
“I love you, Castiel Winchester.” Castiel felt like he was glowing he was so happy.   
“I love it when you say my name.”   
“Castiel-,”   
“No, the Winchester part of it.” Dean grinned down at him as Cas ran his hands over Dean's sculpted chest.   
“Winchester.” Dean whispered, taking off Castiel's shirt. Cas lifted his body to help him. “Winchester.” Dean breathed against his skin as he kissed down Castiel's chest. “Winchester.” he said once more as he lowered Castiel's sweatpants and his boxers.   
They stayed in bed longer than Castiel planned, but it was worth every second. 

Dean: 

“You understand why we can't have both of you back at once.” Nigel had said on the phone to him.   
“No, not really.”   
“Well, your love story has really brought the show a lot of publicity, and for that we are grateful, but if both of you were here at once, all the focus would be on the pair of you instead of this years dancers. We plan on asking you back next season, if you're up for it.”   
“Of course, Nigel. Anything for you, crumpet.” Nigel chuckled.   
“You know I love it when you butter me up like that, Dean, but don't you have a husband now or something?”   
“Oh, him.” Dean said, looking over at Cas who was sitting on the couch reading, half asleep, his glasses falling down his nose. “Forget about him, Nigel baby, let's elope.” Cas's head snapped up and then he put it together in his head and grinned crookedly.   
“Tell the crumpet I said hi.” He said, yawning a bit and stretching.   
“Cas says hi.” Dean said, scribbling something on a piece of notebook paper.   
“Tell him I said he'd better be rested up and on time, we have a heavy work load this season.”   
“Yeah yeah.” Dean said, not really wanting to hear it. He was used to heavy work loads, between running his new juvenile delinquent dance studio and helping Cas out occasionally with his, Dean and Cas were both spreading themselves rather thin. And now Meg and Cas were both invited back to the show, leaving the studio under the charge of Dean and another new instructor, Cole. Dean longed to be wherever Cas was. And now his new husband was getting stolen away to Vegas. Dean hadn't been at all jealous when Cas had won. He had still paid for Sammy's school, which Dean would never be able to repay him for. And by that time, Dean already knew Cas was his future husband, it was cemented in his bones. If Cas won, Dean won. Dean ran a hand through Cas's hair and Cas snuggled into him, setting down his book and pushing up his glasses as he curled into Dean's side.   
“Alright, I'll let you go so you two can spend some time together. It won't be that long Dean, only ten weeks. And you know we'll have a ticket for you if you want to come see the show.” Dean felt dread at the words. “only ten weeks” ten weeks? They had never been apart that long. Ten weeks was like an eternity.  
“I will be up there for a few shows, but I've got two dance studios to run and a hand full of teenage angst to shovel through.” He told Nigel. Sure, he'd get to visit Cas, but for no more than two days. And only a handful of times. It would be nothing like it was now.   
“Bye Deano.”   
“See ya around, crumpet.” And they hung up the phone. It was odd how close he had become with the judges as soon as he was done being judged by them. A number of them actually showed up at their wedding, including Kat, Mary (who had screamed very shrilly), Nigel, Lil C, and Mia. The others had all sent them gifts and letters congratulating them. Of course, Dean had a theory they were doing it half for the publicity of it all. There were plenty of cameras at the wedding, despite Cas's immense discomfort. But Nigel had come over for dinner a few times, and had the boys over to his mansion when they were in Vegas, visiting. Kat had hosted several parties they had all been invited to, and Mary had gone out for lunch with them once or twice.  
Dean sat down his phone and wrapped his arms around his husband.   
“I'll miss you, angel.”   
“I'm not gone yet Dean.” Cas mumbled, sleepily.   
“I miss you already.” Dean nosed Cas's hair and pressed a kiss onto the top of his head.   
That had been last month, right after Cas had agreed to go. Now it was two days before he left, and Dean felt even more clingy than usual, which of course made him feel a little pathetic. Dean had tried to keep Cas in bed for as long as possible that morning, but they had to get up eventually, probably sooner rather than later. It was Saturday so Cas and Dean were both (thankfully) off work, but Cas had packing to do, and Dean had moping to do. So, regretfully, they got out of bed and went about their day. Dean slid into the kitchen to make breakfast, putting on his phone and listening to classic rock. He hadn't even noticed he was dancing around the kitchen and singing until he looked up and Cas was standing against the counter, smiling lovingly at him. Dean grinned and held out his hand and pulled Cas against him and they started dancing together.   
“COME DOWN ON YOUR OWN AND LEAVE YOUR BODY ALONEEEE” Dean screamed/sung Cas laughed with his head thrown back and his eyes scrunching just the way Dean loved and Dean just pulled him along and continued on “CUS I'M WASTED AND I CAN'T FIND MY WAY HOMEEEE” Cas finally started singing with him as they spun around their small kitchen, avoiding counters. Dean even sang the guitar solo as he dipped Cas and pulled him back up for a kiss.   
“Dean, your bacon is burning.” Cas said, sniffing the air.   
“Shit!” Dean ran over to the pan to turn the bacon over and then turned back around to grin at his husband. Cas suddenly looked sad.   
“When I'm gone, will you call me and sing to me?” He asked, coming up behind Dean and wrapping his arms around him. Dean hummed and leaned back.   
“Of course babe. But I thought you didn't like my singing.”  
“I never said I didn't like it. I just said you sounded like a dying whale sometimes. But I like it. You're my dying whale.” Dean made a noise of displeasure and made them both their plates.   
“You done packing already?” Dean asked. He refused to be in the room while Cas was packing. He didn't want to see Cas disassembling their lives together.   
“No. The smell of bacon and the sound of dying whales captured my attention. I still have a bit more to go.”   
“Don't forget your favorite shirt.” Cas squeezed him in reply. “Or the boots I got you. You look damn good in those boots. Well. Maybe forget those.” Dean could feel Cas laugh against him.   
“Come on, let's go sit down.” Dean brought plates laden with bacon, eggs, and pancakes over to the table, and they sat down to eat.   
The night before Cas left they were supposed to go out and do something fun together, but all Dean had wanted to do was stay in. They sat on the couch, Cas cuddled into Dean's side, and watched Dean's new favorite movie, Guardians of the Galaxy. During the scene where “I fooled around and fell in Love” came on, Dean stood up and held out his hand for Cas to take. Cas smiled up at him and took it, letting Dean spin him around their floor in lazy circles.   
Dean let the slow melody lose him as he held Cas in his arms.   
“I wish you didn't have to go.” He mumbled into Cas's ear. Cas's hand brushed over his shoulder lovingly.   
“I'll be back before you know it.” Dean was silent. They had probably said these words thousands of times by now, but Dean felt different this time. Like this was their last dance. It had an odd sort of finality to it that none of their dances before had ever had. Dean could feel himself tearing up and blinked it away. This was nuts, he wasn't a softie like this. He didn't get so emotional normally. But being with Cas was different. Dean lay his head on Cas's shoulder and allowed Cas to move them slowly across the floor until they were just swaying in place.   
“I love you, angel.” he told Cas. Cas squeezed him a little tighter.   
“I love you too, my hunter.”   
The next day, Dean dropped Cas off at the airport. Before he got out of the impala, he seemed to square his shoulders and take a deep breath.  
“You nervous. Angel?” Cas looked at him and smiled.   
“Nah, I'll just breathe.” Dean grinned at him.   
“That's right. It's like you don't even need me anymore.” Cas's face got serious.   
“I always need you, Dean. I'll see you soon, okay?”   
“Okay.” Dean said, smiling sadly, more for Cas than for him. “Call me when you land.”   
“I will.” Cas leaned in and kissed Dean quickly and then got his bags and walked inside. Dean watched Cas until he was gone, and then sat there a moment longer, trying to feel the kiss on his lips before it faded completely, and then he put baby in drive, and left.


	2. Your Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned what a fan of Fall Out Boy I was? No? I am. Also I'm super into the PunkCas!AU and I think the world needs more of it. Also the structure for the show . . . I'm just starting to make it up. Screw it. Sorry this chapter took so long, but it is long so I hope that makes up for it! There aren't any spoilers except for character names and personalities for season ten, so beware!

Castiel: 

Castiel's first night in Vegas was strange. He looked around the city he had already spent what seemed like an eternity in, and felt that it was emptier somehow. It was lonelier without Dean, more hollow. He felt like he was being melodramatic but he just didn't see the lights the same anymore, even with Meg by his side (he was grateful to have her with him, at least) he felt like he was missing an essential part of him. He spun around the wedding ring on his finger and smiled fondly down at it.   
“Did you call Deano yet?” Meg asked, noticing Cas had spaced out for the billionth time.   
“Hmm? Oh. No. Not yet, I was waiting till we got out of the airport.” Meg raised an eyebrow and gestured at the taxi around them.   
“We're kinda out of the airport, unicorn.” Cas grimaced at the unwanted nickname. “Hey if this is a privacy thing, don't mind me. I'll put earphones in. Just please, don't steam up the taxi. I hate what the fog does to my hair.” She said, sassy as ever. Castiel rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone, scrolling to Dean's name. He picked up on the first ring.  
“Cas? Oh thank God, you made it? I was beginning to-,” Castiel already had a smile on his lips.  
“I'm fine, Dean, the airport was just noisy and I wanted to be able to hear you perfectly.” Silence.   
“Well . . . okay. I'm glad you're okay.” Castiel knew Dean's initial freak out was due to Dean's fear of planes. It was hell to get him on one, when they went back to Lawrence together it was because Sammy drove the Impala up.  
“What are you doing?” Castiel asked him.  
“Watching the auditions again. I wanted to see who you'd be dancing with this year. I hope it's that chick Claire. She's sweet.”   
“She's the youngest in the competition, I doubt they'd pair me up with her, we'd be an odd match. I could be her father.” Cas chuckled.   
“Haha whatever, you're not that old, angel. So what are you guys up to?”   
“Just in the taxi on the way to the hotel. We don't get to stay in the mansion, we aren't the new kids anymore.”   
“Hey, just means less cameras and creepy dudes, I'm all for it. You have to have a roommate?” Cas grinned at this question. He could feel Dean edging towards jealous over the phone. It was something they had worked on the past year. Dean was possessive as it gets, and Castiel had helped him to tone it down a lot, but it was still there, settled underneath Dean's skin. Even though Castiel had married him, it was still there. Castiel thought back to when they had fought about it.  
“Do you not trust me at all, Dean?”   
“It's not you I don't trust!” Dean had screamed in his face. “It's them! It's the freakin' . . . Alistair's of the world!” Castiel had cringed, remembering his body pinned up to a counter, glass in his foot. Dean's face softened. “I'm sorry. . . I shouldn't have brought that up. . . it just . . .it scared me as much as it scared you.” Dean put a hand to Castiel's face. “I couldn't stand to see him hurt you.” Castiel had kissed him gently.   
“He didn't get to me, you were there.”   
“He could've. And that's why I'm so protective over you.”   
“I can take care of myself, Dean.” Cas had mumbled.  
“But you shouldn't have to anymore. You deserve to have someone take care of you.”   
Castiel had let the argument go, but every now and then it resurfaced.   
“Cas?” Dean asked, worry already back in his voice.   
“No I don't have a roommate this go around. We each get our own room.” There was an ill-concealed sigh of relief from the other end of the phone.   
“Well that must be nice. Not having to share a room with a slob this year.” Castiel laughed.   
“It also means when you come to visit-,”   
“NOPE. STOP. SHUT UP. NO.” Meg screamed. Dean started laughing over the other end of the phone as Meg battled to cover her hand over Cas's mouth.   
“IT JUST MEANS WHEN YOU COME TO VISIT I CAN HAVE YOU ALL TO MYSELF-,” Cas screamed as Meg fought him, tickling him in the back seat of the car, “I CAN TAKE OFF ALL YOUR CLOTHES AND SUCCOMB TO MY MANLY URGES-,” He laughed wildly as Meg tickled him, attempting to grasp his phone.   
“CAN YOU TWO KEEP IT DOWN BACK THERE?!” The taxi driver shouted, swerving the car a little. All the fun stopped and Meg climbed back over to her side of the taxi and stuck her tongue out at Castiel.   
“I'd better go, love. I'll call you soon. Goodnight, I Love you.” Castiel said into the phone.   
“Night babe, sleep tight, don't let any demonic bitches bite.”   
“I heard that, bastard.” Meg laughed.   
“She says she loves you too.”   
“Yeah right.” And then the line went dead. Castiel was left smiling down at his phone, and thinking maybe the lights were twinkling just a little bit more, if only for a moment.

Dean: 

Dean was trying not to be too put off at the fact Cas had waited so long to call him. Like he said, noisy airport. But . . . he could've sent a text. Dean looked down at the phone in his hand and felt his anger rising a little, and then he caught himself and chuckled. It was no big deal, Cas had called him in the end, that's all that mattered. Forget the fact that Dean had spent the second half of his day envisioning terrible plane crashes with his dead husband panicking without him there and spending his last few moments on earth alone and frightened. Yeah, forget that. Dean pressed play on the remote again and settled down to watch the rest of the auditions for the second time, the first time having been with Cas. He looked over at the empty couch beside him, thinking of how the space needed to be filled. Maybe he should get a dog . . . or a cat. Someone to hold while Cas was gone. Now he was just being ridiculous. Like Nigel had said, it was only ten weeks. Only . . . two and a half months . . . and he would go visit Cas on the show, of course. The next new episode (featuring his better half) was due to air in a week, and Dean couldn't help but be excited. He was almost jealous Cas was dancing with other people, especially if the dances were more romantic (which they often were), but then Dean shrugged it off. The only romantic dance that had happened on the show between two same sex partners was Dean and Cas's. Dean smiled fondly at the memory of their painted faces and the smiles they shared with each other before they went on stage. Their relationship was still just starting out then, they were getting over a minor break up and trying for all the world to be good to each other. The dance was everything to them.   
Eventually Dean started to nod off and he turned off the TV and went to his room, staring at the other half of the bed, as if willing Cas to materialize there and fill up space. He sighed and settled for a text instead.   
Dean: Going to bed. I love you.   
Angel: Okay. I'm going to bed soon too, Meg wanted to go out for a celebratory dinner. We just got back. It was stupid, we needed to sleep more. And drink more water.   
Dean: You get wasted, angel?  
Dean laughed, knowing Cas hardly ever drank, and when he did he only had one or two.   
Angel: haha very funny. No, I just drank one beer. Meg on the other hand . . . well, she had a good time.   
Dean: Lucky she has you to force her into living tomorrow.   
Angel: I believe she said, and I quote, “If you fuck with me tomorrow, unicorn, I'll break the horn off your forehead and shove it so far up your ass . . . that is really sparkly. That's a very sparkly purse. I want it.” and then tried to steal some poor woman's purse. I stopped her though.  
Dean: Just make sure you lube the horn first babe, you know what they say, prep first or fear the worst.  
Angel: oh god. I don't even want to think about that.   
Dean: I should invest in some unicorn toys.   
Angel: NO.   
Dean: No promises. Goodnight.   
Angel: Night my hunter. 

Castiel: 

Castiel woke up early the next morning and pounded on Meg's door until she answered it by swinging the door open and slapping him in the face. He stood there, shocked and with a hand to his face.   
“I told you not to fuck with me.” She grumbled.   
“I WAS ENSURING YOUR FUTURE ON THE SHOW!”   
“Bullshit. I can't believe you let me drink this much.”   
“So you got mad at me for being your babysitter, but you're mad at me for not being a good enough babysitter?” Meg scratched her lion's mane of hair. Her makeup was running all over her face and her clothes were wrinkled versions of the ones she had worn the night before.   
“Fuck you.” She muttered. Castiel rolled his eyes. If he hadn't been friends with Meg for so long already, he would've left her there to wallow in her own hangover. But he had known Meg for over a year now, and he had made her a partner with him at his dance studio. He knew she was just feeling like crap and that Meg always projected how she felt outward. It was nothing personal.   
“Drink some water and then go wash your face.” Meg stumbled around the room, doing what he told her. She then plopped on the bed and Castiel grabbed a hairbrush and attempted to make some sort of sense out of her afro. Truth be told, he had no idea about fashion or hair or any of it. He wore his hair however he woke up, messy and with no product (unless there was a special event in which case he had Dean help him style it). He managed somehow to get the brush actually stuck to Meg's head, at which point she swatted his hands away and brushed it all herself, yanking on it mercilessly until it looked a little more manageable and then throwing it up into a messy bun. After that Castiel managed to force her to dress herself, and then took her out for breakfast tacos, after which she seemed to come alive a little bit more. Then they headed over to the studio.   
“You're late.” Kat hissed at them as they walked in. Castiel shrugged and gestured to Meg.   
“She had a hard time getting up this morning.” Kat glanced over at Meg, raised an eyebrow, and hurried her away to makeup, with very specific instructions to the artists to “Make her face look a little less like she'd just gotten punched”. Castiel had to reign in a laugh. He stepped into a crowded room with twenty contestants standing in the middle, surrounded by lights and cameras and makeup artists for the first time, most of them looking for all the world as if they had been stunned. A few of them saw him come in and he heard a hushed whisper of   
“Oh my God it's Castiel.”   
“It's that guy who married that guy!”   
“Didn't he win last year?”   
“I wonder if he'll sign something for me . . .” To which Castiel just smiled to himself and kept his head down. Kat introduced him to a few of the contestants and then pulled him aside.   
“Okay, what we're planning on doing is having each of them pair up with a previous contestant. You're going to be their mentor and dance partner this week, and then next week we'll switch.”   
“Are they not getting permanent dance partners?” Castiel asked, glancing towards the nervous group.   
“They will later on in the season, and we'll keep the allstar thing going too, they'll dance two dances a night.”   
“God that sounds stressful.” Kat's mouth thinned into a line.  
“I know. I don't like it. They already overwork the contestants enough as it is. But I'm not the boss.” Castiel shrugged. “We'll have each of the newbies pick a name out of a hat and we're going to film it. You're late, so you haven't gotten the chance to be introduced to anyone, or meet up with the allstars, but we still want to get your reaction to seeing your allstar friends again, so we're going to powder you up and go ahead and film that now.” Castiel nodded, endured the powder brush as it dusted over his already matte face, and then followed the directions and walked over to the group of allstars with Meg. Besides Meg, he hadn't been told who all would be there.  
“BALTHAZAR!” he called out as soon as he saw him. He and Balthazar had stayed close, but Balthazar must've kept it a secret from him that he was coming, probably on the orders of the studio. Balthazar spun around and hugged Castiel tightly, smiling from ear to ear.  
“Cassie! So good of you to join us!” He then released Castiel and hugged Meg, who grinned and hugged him back. Castiel looked beyond Balthazar and noticed Ruby, from last season was also there. He tried to contain his grimace in her direction, as she stuck his nose up at him. Ruby had been a pain in the ass last season, and Castiel had been happy to be rid of her. He supposed good things didn't always last. He didn't notice anyone else he had ever met before, but he saw some contestants he had seen on other seasons. Melanie and Marko were there, two of Castiel's favorite dancers, along with Twitch, who was probably everyone's favorite dancer. The rest of them, he was sad to say, he did not recognize. He was introduced to everyone quickly, but there were so many names they all went in one ear and out the other. The new dance contestants were mostly very kind, only one person stood out as rude, Cas thought his name was something like Rufus. The guy just glared at Castiel for all he was worth so Castiel ignored him.   
For his first week on, Castiel was paired up with the youngest contestant, Claire. She was short, had blonde hair, and a punk rock look about her. She considered him and shrugged, and Castiel glanced over at Kat, silently asking if they were going to have to redo that for the camera. She nodded with her eyes wide.   
“A little more excitement, kiddo. For the cameras.” Claire made a disgusted face and pretend to be sickeningly happy. She told the cameras,   
“I'm such a big fan of Catstiel, I can't wait to work with him!”   
“His name is CAS-tee-el, Claire.” Kat said. They shot it again. Finally they had some weird version of the teen putting on a sickeningly sweet smile and saying she was excited to work with Castiel and they deemed it good enough. They got Sonya for their first choreographer. They were on the way to their dance studio, so far nothing but silence and awkward glances between them.   
“So the thing about Sonya, is that she'll work you really hard, and ask really odd things of you, and describe things in a weird way, but she's a great-,”   
“I don't care.” Claire groaned. Castiel stopped in his tracks.   
“What?”   
“I don't care.” Castiel knew he looked like an idiot, standing in a hallway facing her with his mouth agape, but he couldn't bring himself to close his mouth.   
“How do you not care?” He asked, his voice squeaking a little bit.   
“I don't want your 'special advice' to win the competition. I can do this on my own, grandpa.”   
“I am not even old!”   
“You're old enough to be my father. I hope they don't have us dancing anything romantic, because frankly, I might throw up on you if that's the case.” She glared and walked down the hallway, leaving Castiel to stare after her. He couldn't help but agree that he didn't want to dance romantically with this young girl. He didn't want to dance romantically with anyone but Dean, but at least dancing love stories on stage with Meg last season had been possible because there was a sort of love between them, even if it was only platonic. He wondered if Dean's acting skills would pay off and save him, because he wasn't sure his acting was good enough to fool everyone into thinking he even liked this girl. He took a deep breath on instinct and followed behind her into Sonya's studio.   
He grinned when he saw the Mohawk sporting choreographer, and she rushed to give him a big hug, she then introduced herself to Claire and shook her had. Then, as always with Sonya, it was down to business.  
“This dance is going to be about a father and a daughter.”   
“Oh thank God.” Claire said, rolling her eyes. Sonya shot her a glance that put Claire in her place. It was a glance that said, do not talk while I am speaking, girl. Castiel had to hide his laughter.   
“So in this, a straitlaced father ends up having a punk rock daughter. She comes home ostracized for being different, for having tattoos and piercings and blue hair, and this dance is a bonding exercise. It turns out there were things about her father the little girl didn't know, like that Daddy was a punk rocker too. They end up both celebrating their differences and growing closer.”   
“Question: Do we actually have to get tattoos?” Claire asked, quirking an eyebrow. “Because I have a few in mind but-,”   
“Um, no. Do you even understand how the tattoo healing process works? By the time you would be comfortable moving your body in the way I want you to again, the tattoos would be peeling, and that freshly tattooed peeling look is not at all what I'm going for. We have great makeup artists, don't worry about that.” Claire pouted a little bit. Castiel smiled. “Okay, now that that's over, let's get to work. Cas, I believe you know the band, this song is to The Mighty Fall by Fall Out Boy.” Castiel felt that if he were a dog, his ears would've perked up.   
“Really? That's incredible! I love Fall Out Boy!” he thought about it for the moment. “The . . .um . . .rap part?” Big Sean's cameo in the song was one of his favorite rap lyrics of all time, it was witty and funny, but it was defiantly not something that should be said between a father and a daughter. Sonya laughed.   
“We're cutting that part out, don't worry.” Castiel nodded. They went about working on their routine, by the end of it Claire was sweating just as hard as Castiel. She might be a brat, but she worked hard, he had to give her that.   
“Alright! We're calling it a day! Claire, on to group rehearsal. Castiel, you're free to go.” Castiel nodded his thanks and left, holding the door open for his dance daughter.   
“Have a good group-,”   
“Whatever.” Claire said, shrugging her duffel onto her shoulder. Castiel just shook his head and walked the other way, back to the motel to get a shower, then call Dean, then food.

Dean: 

He almost didn't get the phone in time. He had heard it ringing from its place on the couch while he was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. Cas's signature ring tone, Your Song by Elton John. Dean sprinted through their house, his socks sliding on the wooden floor, and jumped over the couch to grab his cellphone. He knew he could've just as easily called Cas back, but he didn't want to. He wanted to answer the second Cas called.   
“Hey!” Dean said into the phone, breathless.   
“Hey love. You busy?” Cas's sweet voice came through the receiver.   
“Nah, just brushing my teeth.”   
“You sound out of breath.” Cas said, nonchalantly.   
“I might've just jumped over a couch to get to you.” Cas's wonderful laughter rang out. Dean could see him, standing in fresh clothes, in a hotel room somewhere in Vegas, his eyes scrunched up in that wonderful way and his mouth open.  
“My hero.”   
“How was your day, babe?” Dean asked.   
“It was okay. Balthazar is here.”   
“That's awesome! Tell him I said hi!”   
“I will. I think we're going out to dinner tonight, me, Balth, and Meg.”   
“Sounds like fun, I'm jealous.”   
“Ruby is also here.”   
“Ha. Not so jealous.” Dean hated Ruby with a fiery passion, like most everyone else who met her.   
“And I got paired up with Claire.”   
“Oh yeah? Is she sweet like I thought she would be?” Dean asked, pulling a blanket over him and settling into the couch.   
“No. She's a brat. I tried to help her out and give her advice . . . she called me old.” Dean was holding back laughter.   
“You're not old babe.”   
“I can hear the laughter in your voice.” Cas groaned.   
“You're not old! Because if your old, that makes me old! And I am sure as hell not old! Who's the choreographer? What's the dance about? Give me the inside scoop Mr. Winchester!”   
“I love that you can call me that, I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it.” Dean smiled to himself and picked at a thread in the blanket. “Well we got Sonya, so that's good. We're doing this weird daddy daughter dance,”   
“That can't be helping out the 'old' situation.” Dean chuckled.   
“Hush! Well. It is to Fall Out Boy.”   
“Oh yeah?” Dean almost felt jealous. He wished he could dance with Cas to Fall Out Boy. “Which song?”   
“The Mighty Fall, from YBC. But without the rap bit, I had to clarify that.”   
“Yeahhh the rap bit might be uh . . .wrong for a father daughter dynamic.”   
“They say I got screws missin', well hell, only when I'm missin' you.” Cas quoted in his best Big Sean impersonation. Dean cracked up.   
“Hell yeah I'm a dick girl, I'm addicted to you!” Dean finished the lyric for him. He heard Cas chuckle as well.   
“I miss you, my hunter.” Cas breathed into the phone.   
“I miss you too, angel.”   
“I heard the new contestants talking about me today.”   
“What'd they say?”   
“I'm known as 'that guy who married that guy'. I'm okay with it.”   
“I love you.” Dean told him, feeling his heart do that sort of expanding thing in his chest.   
“I love you too. Go to bed, you're two hours ahead there.”   
“Yeah, it's already ten and I have to go to both studios tomorrow.”   
“Thank you so much for doing this for me, Dean.”   
“Hey, that's what husbands are for, right? G'night, Cas.”   
“Night Dean. Sweetest dreams.” Cas hung up first, and Dean was left listening to the sound of the dial tone buzzing in his ear.


	3. The Mighty Fall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut smut smutty smut smut. That counts as your warning. Also this is the longest chapter in the history of ever, but that's because it's filled with goodies. Enjoy and let me know what you think by leaving me a review!

Castiel: 

Castiel sat backstage, getting his makeup done, it was all over his body. He enjoyed looking at himself in the mirror. They had styled his hair so that one side looked almost shaved, gelled back, and the other side hung loose over his head. His eyes had black eyeliner around them that made the blue even more striking. There were fake piercings up his ears and even one on his eyebrow, and one in his lip. He smiled at his reflection and watched the fake lip ring move with his mouth. He had to admit, he kind of liked the punk look. He wasn't sure he would trade it for his regular “laid back nerdy dancer angel” look, as Dean called it, but he liked the feeling of power and control the fake metal gave him. He especially liked the tattoos.   
There were wings on his back that extended down his arms so if he held them out, it looked like he was flying. There was a lovely flower tattoo running from his hip up his ribs, they were orchids, which the artists told him symbolized bravery in warriors. There was a cross in the middle of his chest, and covering a small section on the left side of his rib cage were symbols in what he was told was Enochian, the language of the angels. Sonya had gotten actual tattoo artists to come in and paint the tattoos on him in a way that would look realistic and wouldn't smudge off right away. He smiled at Sonya when she came in.   
“These are awesome!” Castiel told her. She grinned.   
“Cas, you look badass man! I can't wait to see the big reveal, you're going to rock this routine!”   
“Well you know what they say, gotta save rock and roll, right?” Sonya laughed and nodded at the Fall Out Boy reference.  
“Have you seen your daughter running around anywhere?”   
“Uh . . . I think she's somewhere around here. . . I have no clue.”   
“You're a bad babysitter.”   
“Well, that would be because I am not a babysitter.” Castiel answered back with a bit of snark. Sonya rolled her eyes and ran off to find the other dancer.   
The past week had been rough, Claire had been exhausted which just managed to make her more rude, but Castiel and she had started to be able to stand each other. Then, one night, Castiel was out with Meg and Balthazar about to call it and head back to the hotel when he had spotted Claire, getting shoved into an alleyway by a man much taller than her.   
“Give me your money!” He was shouting.   
“Fuck off!”   
“Give me your money or I'll gut you bitch!” Castiel saw a flash of silver and before he knew it he was running through traffic across the street, leaving Balthazar and Meg to follow after him. By the time he got there he heard Claire scream, but didn't see what had happened, the blood chilled in his veins. Was he too late? He arrived, breathless to see the attacker on the ground, and Claire standing over him, breathing heavily with her fist bloodied. Castiel didn't know what came over him, but he reached down and hauled the guy to his feet so he could punch him again in the face. The guy was screaming and trying to reach for the knife that was on the ground. Castiel saw Meg pick it up and he held his hand out for it.   
“Cas-,”  
“I'm not going to do it unless he tries to get away before the police get here.” Castiel ground out through his teeth. Meg reluctantly handed him the knife and he pressed the attacker up against a wall and held him there at knife point.   
“Balthazar call the cops.”   
“Already did mate.” The attacker looked at him with wide eyes and Castiel glanced over to see Claire rushing into Meg's arms.   
“What are you, her father or something?” The attacker spat out, along with a glob of blood.  
“Yes. And if you even so much as look at her again, I'll slit your throat.” Castiel growled, pressing the knife tip closer to the man's jugular. The police came and arrested the man, took statements from everyone, and then left. The studio, of course, found out about it but thankfully the press didn't, and they all agreed not to spill. Castiel, Meg, Balthazar, and Claire had gone out to get ice cream after that, attempting to calm Claire's nerves.   
“Um . . . Thanks Cas. You didn't have to . . . I mean . . . I had it but . . . I didn't know how long he would stay down for or if I could outrun him and I owe you a big apology-,”   
“It's okay Claire, I understand.”   
“You do?”   
“You're not trying to deal with the competition, you want to be individual, alone. You think that if you get close to anyone, they'll hurt you or try and trick you, right?” Claire nodded eagerly.   
“How did you know? Is that how you were?” Castiel smiled at her.   
“No, but someone I grew to love very much was like that at first.”   
“He's talking about me.” Meg swung on her bar stool chair and kissed Castiel on the cheek. Castiel laughed and swatted her away, waving his left ring finger in the air.   
“Hey! I'm a married man! Paws off, woman!”   
“Oh . . . are you talking about Dean?” Claire asked sheepishly. Castiel smiled warmly at the name, feeling as if he were glowing at the mere mention of his husband.   
“Yeah. Dean was an ass right at first. He thought the same things you did, and then when we started working together, we both grew stronger.” Balthazar made a gagging noise and Meg giggled. “Shut up, you two!” Castiel threw a straw wrapper at them, hitting Balthazar in the head. “The way I see it, Claire, we aren't competition, we're here to help you. If you don't want to trust the other competitors, that's fine, but you can at least trust us.”   
“You'd take me in? After how rude I was to you?” Castiel smiled warmly at her.   
“Everyone deserves a second chance.”   
Castiel decided not to tell Dean about the incident, figuring it'd just freak him out more. He did tell Dean that from that night on, working with Claire was significantly easier. It was noticeable in their dancing that they had meshed more, Sonya even commented on it, saying the piece was finally coming together because her dancers were giving it a very father/daughter feel. Sonya hadn't been kidding when she said this dance was a trust exercise, especially for Claire. There were moments where she was suspended in air and she had to trust that Castiel would catch her and wouldn't let her fall as a father should do for his daughter. Before that night she hadn't trusted him at all and it had always ended badly for both of them. One time it got Castiel accidentally kicked in the face. But now that they understood each other, everything glided smoothly. Castiel couldn't help but be excited on the phone when he told Dean.   
“She's completely changed!” He felt almost bubbly about it.   
“That's so great! I'm proud of you! I can't wait to see the routine!”   
“I know that I just left and everything . . . but is there anyway you can make it to Vegas to see it in person? I think you'll really like the costume. Among other things.” Dean sighed into the phone.   
“I don't know, Cas, I'm kinda worn thin here. I'll try, okay?” Castiel sat down on his bed.   
“I understand. Thank you for all that you're doing, I love you.”   
“I love you too, angel.”   
Now Castiel couldn't help but wishing Dean were there, in the audience, ready to see Castiel dance while looking like a punk to one of their favorite bands. He wished there were a curtain he could peer out of so that he could peek into the audience. Dean had said he probably wouldn't be able to make it, but Castiel felt he knew his husband well enough by now to know Dean was trying to surprise him. That or he just missed him so much already that he was hoping Dean would be there. He told himself not to get upset if he wasn't there, it was like Dean said, he was being worn thin by two dance studios. But Castiel couldn't keep himself from hoping.   
The show started. The top twenty did their group number, a cute little theatrical piece about a lost elephant, and then several of the couples danced. Meg went on first, with her partner, Ryan. Castiel watched them intently on the screen as the tattoo artists finished up his fake tattoos and then the wardrobe people put on his button up dress shirt that covered all of the freshly applied paint. He wore some thick glasses whose frames hid his eyebrow piercing and made the eyeliner less noticeable. He was supposed to hold his lips in a sort of grimace at the beginning of the dance that would hide his lip piercing. They were up next, Castiel got in his place on the stage. They were set to dance around a couch and a door, which only Claire would really be using as a prop. Castiel sat on the couch with a newspaper, and Claire waited outside the door. Castiel cast a sideways glance over at her and could see the tension in her body, he knew exactly what she felt, but he hoped that she would be able to overcome it. The song started. Claire raged through the door, her fake tattoos practically glowing on her pale arms, her face and ears covered in piercings. Castiel put down his newspaper and stood up and grabbed her arm when she tried to walk away.   
Pretty pout pout until you bottomed up, oh  
The dance continued, Castiel's favorite part being when the chorus hit and he ripped off his shirt and glasses to reveal his tattoos and piercings. Claire grinned ear to ear and covered her mouth with her hands and then the dance really took off from there.   
I'm singing whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh how the mighty fall   
how the mighty fall  
The dance ended with Claire about to go to her room and then turning back around and running to Castiel, jumping over the couch and hugging him. The audience went nuts. Castiel hoisted Claire up in the air and she held her arms up and he smiled up at her.   
Marry was screaming. Nigel was clapping. Little C was grinning from ear to ear.   
“That was TOO cute!!” Marry screamed “And Cas, you in punk rock . . . whew! Your husband is a lucky man!” She said, fanning herself. Castiel chuckled and then the cameras zoomed into Dean's face, sitting in the audience. He smiled proudly and was clapping.   
“It's so good to have you back, Castiel. You did amazing dancing, and Claire you were exceptional. The trust in you two to do that dance was insane! The part where she leaped over the couch while you were on the other side of the stage, and you ran back to get her . . . that was incredible! Possibly my favorite routine of the night!” The crowd clapped again.   
“That was buck yo.” Little C agreed. They were excused to go backstage after Castiel helped Claire promote her number to get votes. Sonya hugged them both.   
“You two were amazing! I couldn't have picked better dancers!” She said, tears in her eyes. “That was beautiful!” Castiel was practically jittery with excitement.   
“Thanks Sonya, do you need anything else or can I-,”   
“Haha you can go be with your man, Castiel.” Castiel thanked her and hugged Claire again.   
“Hey wait up after the show! I want to introduce you to Dean!” Castiel told her. “Maybe you can come out to dinner with us?” Claire made a face.   
“And get in the way of you two smooching all night? No thank you. But I wouldn't mind meeting prince charming. I'll be here. Now go before you pee yourself.” Castiel ruffled her hair for that last comment and ran off to find Dean in the audience. It was during the commercial break so he wasn't interrupting anything when he ran out among the crowd and found his husband. Dean stood up and hugged him. It was only when Cas felt Dean's warm arms on him that he realized he was still shirtless. Castiel glanced down at himself and blushed before looking around at all of the people taking pictures and cheering.   
“I probably should've . . . put on clothes . . .” Castiel stammered, looking around. Dean's hand on his cheek made him look back into Dean's eyes.   
“It's okay. I like you like this.” Dean said, grinning.   
“Yeah, you don't seem to be the only one.” Castiel said, glancing back up at the audience. Dean pulled him in for a quick, chaste kiss.   
“Hey they can look but they can't touch, right?” Castiel laughed and hugged Dean again.   
“Nope, speaking of touching, I have a nice hotel room . . .” Dean pressed a kiss to Castiel's cheek.   
“Later, angel. Let's sit down and enjoy the show before Marry comes over and insists on joining us.” Castiel laughed and looked up at Marry on the judges panel who was looking back at them, clearly ooh-ing and aww-ing. He sat there, with the man he loved and held his hand and watched the show, jittery just for the fact that he was beside his husband once again. Eventually he got cold and Dean finally offered over his jacket which Castiel gratefully draped around his naked torso.   
“You could've given me this sooner.” Castiel hissed playfully.   
“And miss getting to look at you? Hell no.” Dean winked. Castiel rolled his eyes and endured the rest of the show, which was starting to feel a lot longer now. Balthazar went on and danced and Castiel and Dean cheered as loud as they could. Then, blissfully the show was over. 

Dean: 

Seeing Cas with fake tattoos and piercings and eyeliner and the way his hair was styled . . . well, Dean couldn't wait to get to the hotel either. He kept glancing over at his husband's chest, covered in fake ink that hadn't smudged at all yet. He especially liked the wings on his back and extending down his arms. Dean wondered if Cas would ever consider getting them for real. They looked damn good on his angel. Dean couldn't help but notice the way Cas's leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation. He just squeezed his husband's hand and grinned at the stage. Making Cas wait was such a beautiful torture. After the show they went backstage, Cas introduced him to Claire.   
“Hi I'm-,” he started.   
“Dean Winchester, I know.” She took his hand and shook it roughly. Dean cocked an eyebrow down at her. She reminded him of a quote Cas had once told him.   
“Though she be but little, she is fierce.” Dean mumbled. Cas smiled at him and nudged him with his elbow. “A Midsummer Night's Dream, right Cas?” Cas nodded in a proud sort of way.   
“It fits my dear little dance daughter perfectly.” Cas ruffled Claire's hair again and she smacked his hand away playfully.   
“Damn right it does.”   
“Well, it was nice to meet you, Claire.” Dean told her, wanting to whisk his punk husband away from everyone and have him all to himself.   
“We're going to dinner, you sure you don't want to come?” Cas asked her. Dean knew Cas was just being his regular nice self, but he was praying that Claire would say no.   
“Nah, you two are disgustingly in love, it'd ruin my appetite. Have a good date, guys.” She smiled and walked away. They got in a taxi and Dean thought of an idea.   
“Instead of going out to some fancy restaurant in Vegas where you'll have to take off all the goodies they let you borrow, how about we grab a pizza to go and head back to the hotel room?” Dean whispered in Cas's ear as he kissed his neck. Cas visibly shivered and nodded quickly.   
“Sounds-” his voice cracked and he cleared his throat, “Yes. That sounds good. Yes let's do that.” They had the cabbie take them to a local pizza place, and then they sped off to Cas's hotel room. When they got there they sat down on the bed, both of them leaning up against the headboard. Cas crossed his legs and sat with his pizza in a box on his lap, eating off of a napkin. Dean paused a moment after coming out of the bathroom to admire him, Cas looked so sweet doing such simple things. He was just sitting there, his hair all messy, his painted on tattoos glowing and his fake eyebrow piercing twinkling at Dean. He was trying to capture the cheese dripping off of his slice of pizza with his mouth and tongue instead of using his other hand, and the result was quite adorable. His black lined eyes flicked over to Dean watching him from the doorway.   
“What?” Cas asked around his bite of gooey cheese and pizza.   
“I've never seen anyone eat pizza in a more disgusting way.” Dean answered lovingly, folding his arms in front of his chest. Cas squinted his eyes at Dean and shook his head a little.   
“You eat like it's your last meal every time you eat food, Dean. You're hardly one to talk.” Cas took a noticeably daintier bite of the edge of his pizza and Dean plopped himself down on the bed, grabbing a slice.   
“I don't know what you're talking about.” Dean answered.   
“Ugh gross, Dean, use a napkin, you'll get grease all over the bed!” Dean rolled his eyes.   
“Okay, mom.” There was a moment of stale silence before Cas started chuckling and Dean looked over at him sideways. “What?”   
“We're so domestically ridiculous. And I love you.” Dean grinned at his husband and leaned in to kiss him, holding his pizza away so it wouldn't smear on Cas's face. When Dean pulled away Cas was grinning that grin that made his eyes wrinkle at the edges. “You taste like pizza.” Dean gestured to his pizza.   
“Well I am currently eating pizza.” Cas continued smiling at him.   
“I missed you.” He said as he picked his peperoni off and placed it on Dean's half of the pizza. Dean shifted so one arm was slung over Cas's shoulders and ate his pizza one handed.   
“I missed you too, angel.” Cas settled into his side and continued eating his pizza like a happy little kitten, making his punk disguise seem slightly ridiculous. Dean didn't dare say anything. After a while Cas took off the lip ring because it was interfering with his eating. They didn't say much, a little bit of talk about work with the studios and then about the competition and who Cas might get paired up with next week. After two slices of slowly consumed pizza, Cas was done. Dean ate four slices but took half of the time Cas did. When they were both finished Cas got up and started getting ready for bed, much to Dean's dismay.   
“What are you doing?” He asked his husband as he went into the bathroom, leaving the door open. Cas looked back at him.   
“I figured I'd hop in the shower and wash off all this paint and hair . . . gunk so it wouldn't get all over the bed.”   
“But Cassss!” Dean could hear the whine in his own voice but he didn't care. Cas smiled a little at him.   
“Deannnnn” he mimicked back, “The sheets are white, this paint is not.”   
“They wash the sheets, babe, it's a hotel.”   
“I know but-,”   
“But what? You have literally no excuse not to let me smear all that paint myself.”   
“It's kind of itchy . . .”   
“Beauty is pain?” Cas set down the towel he was holding on the counter top and faced Dean.   
“Are you that into this whole . . . 'punk' look?” Dean got up from the bed, moved the left over pizza to the table, and sauntered over to his tattooed husband, dropping his hands to his hips and pressing up against his back as he looked in the mirror.  
“You have no idea how into it I really am.” Cas sighed and leaned his head back against Dean's shoulder.   
“You're going to have to be really into it for me to keep all this crap on.”   
“I'm so into it that if you wanted to get real angel wings tattooed, I'd personally finance them and hold your hand while they did it.” Dean confessed. Cas raised an eyebrow.   
“But what about my 'natural nerdy angel librarian thing', as you call it?”  
“I like your nerdy angel librarian thing,” Dean mumbled, nosing up Cas's neck and starting to press kisses over his tattoos. “But I like this super bad ass thing too. . . damn Cas, I guess you just look good in everything.” Cas tilted his head to give Dean better access and sighed in contentment.   
“You're buttering me up.” He said, his voice deeper.   
“Is it working?” Dean asked, wrapping his arms around Cas's abdomen and pressing himself closer to Cas's bare back.   
“A little? Okay how about this- at least let me brush my teeth and wash my hands so everything doesn't taste like garlic and feel like pizza grease, and I'll keep the stupid shit on for you.”   
“It's a deal!” Dean grinned at Cas in the mirror over his shoulder.   
“BUT!”   
“Oh I love your butt.” Dean muttered, squeezing Cas's butt in one hand. Cas nudged Dean in the ribs with his elbow.   
“But we get to have slow lazy shower sex afterward while you help me wash the paint off my back.”   
“Where is the downside to this deal?” Dean asked, wondering how he ended up with someone so utterly perfect for him. Cas grinned wickedly at him in the mirror.   
“You have to brush your garlicy teeth and wash your greasy hands too.” Cas chuckled as Dean went back to kissing his neck.   
“Ugh. Compromise.” Dean pretended to think about it. “Pass the tooth brush I don't want to stop touching you.” He mumbled into Cas's sweet smelling skin. It smelled like the cologne Dean had bought him for Christmas or Valentines day or something.   
“You have to stop touching me to brush your teeth.”   
“You can't brush my teeth for me?” Dean started to whine again. Cas put on his “serious” face.   
“Absolutely not, Dean Winchester, brush your own damn teeth!” Dean sighed and detached himself from Cas. Well, mostly. He kept one hand looped through Castiel's belt loop while they both cleaned up and then as soon as Dean was done (he brushed his teeth like it was a race) he started to unbutton Cas's pants. Cas's blue eyes went wide in the mirror, the tooth brush still in his mouth as Dean started toying with the zipper. “Weewee Reem?” Cas asked around his toothbrush. Dean smiled up at Cas wolfishly as Cas rinsed out his mouth and set down his toothbrush. Then Dean was the one that was shocked when Cas slammed his lips against Dean's, grabbing the back of his neck to force his head in the right direction.  
Dean responded quickly, bringing his hands up to caress Cas's face as Cas made quick work of Dean's tee shirt. Cas pushed Dean up against the counter until Dean sat on it, Cas stepped in between his legs. Cas's hands were everywhere and Dean felt a breathless exhilaration fill him. Cas had taken control before, of course, but never to this degree. Cas typically liked it when Dean was in control. Now he was practically growling as he bit Dean's lip gently and shimmied out of his own jeans. Dean rested his hands around Cas's tattooed shoulders as Cas rolled into Dean, grabbing handfuls of Dean's ass. Dean groaned against Cas's lips.   
“Mmm . . . Cas . . . feels so good baby.” Dean could feel Cas smiling against his neck as he bit into Dean's skin, but, in an attempt to maintain his authority, Cas uttered words Dean could've sworn would never come out of his angel's mouth in a voice as low as sin.   
“Tonight you're my little bitch.” Dean pulled Cas's head off of his neck and held him on both sides of his face, he could feel that his eyes must've been as wide as saucers.  
“WHAT did you just say to me?” Cas was instantly apologetic, his eyebrows shooting up in worry and his mouth opening to form an apology. Dean smiled softly at him and he saw some of the tension drain from Cas's body. “It's okay babe I just . .. I just didn't know you would ever say that and it was a shock, to say the least.”   
“You're not mad?” Cas asked, the nerdy librarian returning to his eyes as the punk god faded out.  
“I'm only going to be mad if you don't keep up this hot 'in control' thing. It's too sexy to go away quite yet.” And cue the return of the punk god, Cas's eyes regained their sharpness and he dove into Dean again, sucking a bruise into Dean's collarbone that would be hard to cover up tomorrow while Dean fisted Cas's hair. Cas then yanked him down off the counter and shoved his pants and briefs down in one go.  
“Get on the bed. Now.” Cas ordered, pointing to the bed. As Dean walked away he could hear the slight rustling as Cas took off his own briefs and then the footsteps as Cas slowly walked towards him. With each step Dean felt his excitement grow. “Hands and knees.” Cas demanded, and who was Dean to disobey, really? Dean couldn't see what Cas was doing, but he could hear the drawer slide open and shut, and he felt the dip of the bed as Cas kneeled behind him. Cas started out shockingly gentle, running his hands over Dean in reverence, almost.   
“You are beautiful, Dean Winchester.” He whispered, all sweetness. Dean took a deep, happy breath and started to relax. That is until he heard the bottle of lube snap open and then cool fingers were pressing at his entrance. All of his attention was brought to the burning pain he felt. Cas stroked his back and kneaded his muscles as he made soothing noises until the pain slowly fizzled into pleasure. “You okay?” He asked softly. Dean didn't trust his voice, knew it would come out shattered, but he didn't care if Cas heard him this wrecked.  
“Y-yes. More . . . oh god, Cas. Please . . . more.” Dean could picture Cas smiling behind him as a second finger was added. Dean rolled his hips back onto Cas's and and arched his back.   
“You want more?” Cas asked, teasingly.   
“Cas- man, don't do this teasing-,” Cas inserted another finger, scissoring them all and spreading Dean nice and wide, cutting off his words.   
“You talk too much.” Cas said, the authority dripping in his voice. Dean nodded, his head down in concentration. He couldn't finish yet, he couldn't. He hadn't even been touched, and he wanted Cas inside of him, damn it. He knew better than to beg though. The way Cas was right now . . . if Dean begged for it, Cas would probably just torture him longer. Cas reached his other hand around and gripped the base of Dean's dick tightly, causing Dean to nearly fall onto the bed, if it weren't for what little willpower he had left and Cas supporting some of his weight with his arm. Cas kissed his shoulder blade as he slid his hand slowly up and down Dean's length.   
“Shh, love, people will hear.” Dean hadn't even realized he was making that much noise until he bit his lip to keep from making too much. He tasted blood from the effort. Cas released his penis and pulled his fingers away. Dean started to make a whining noise, but stopped himself, knowing that would just stall his cruel husband even longer. The lube opened again, and Dean turned around to see Cas fisting erection, spreading the lube up and down his shaft, his eyes closed, head thrown back, bottom lip caught in between his teeth. He looked radiant. When Cas's eyes opened he caught Dean looking and winked at him before crawling closer on the bed. “You ready?” Cas asked, knowing full well that Dean was very ready.   
“Uhuh.” Was all Dean could manage before Cas was slowly pushing into him. Dean's back arched again and he forced himself to take deep breaths through his nose and out his mouth.   
“Okay?” Cas asked, once again caressing Dean's back.   
“Give me a minute.” Dean managed in between gritted teeth. It didn't take long for the pain to ebb and then Dean rolled back against Cas causing Cas to groan. “Good.” he announced. Cas moved slowly at first, and then picked up speed, pounding into Dean relentlessly.   
“Feels so good, Dean.” He moaned as the sound of bodies colliding and Dean's stifled noises filled the room. Dean felt himself nearing the edge, felt that mass in his lower abdomen telling him he was about to-  
Cas pulled out.   
“Cas what the-,” Cas simply plopped down on the bed and pulled Dean on top of him. Dean got the idea soon enough, eager to have Cas back inside of him, he straddled Cas's hips and adjusted Cas's dick so it slid home. Dean rested like that a moment, letting his head roll back. “Cas.” Dean whispered, just needing to say the name. Cas pressed his fingers into Dean's hips hard enough to leave bruises.   
“Move.” He ordered, so Dean did just that. It wasn't long before he felt close again, and judging by the look on Cas's face, he was pretty close too.   
“I love you.” Dean said, twining his fingers with Cas's. That was all it took for Cas to lose it, with Dean following soon after.   
Afterward Dean pulled off and lay down on Cas, feeling sedated and sleepy. Cas let him stay like that for a bit but then finally whispered,   
“Dean . . . shower . . . remember?” Dean blinked his eyes open to find himself laying on top of a sweaty, paint smeared husband who was rubbing his back and smiling down at him. Dean took a deep breath, stretching his body.   
“Feel so good like this . . .” He mumbled.   
“Absolutely not. We're all gross. Let's go, mister.” Cas nudged him more forcefully and Dean reluctantly got up and allowed Cas to get him in the shower, but only because Cas kissed him so deeply it made Dean's head swim. After that everything felt like a dream that Dean didn't want to wake up from. He remembered it briefly the next morning, slow, gentle touches, hot water, and his husband kissing him like he was the most precious thing in the world.


	4. Thinking Out Loud

Dean: 

He'd had to get up early to drive back to Lawrence, no way in hell was he taking a plane. Dean sipped the lukewarm gas station coffee, thinking it tasted bitter for two reasons, one because it was gas station coffee, and two because he had to say goodbye to Cas. That morning had been hard on both of them. The alarm went off at 6am, Cas had training to do and Dean had to get back to run the studios. At first Cas had let Dean get away with wrapping himself around Cas and forcing him to press snooze. After the second time, Cas kissed his head.   
“Babe we have to get up.”   
“I know.” Dean was already wide awake, but he didn't want to leave.   
“I'll see you again soon.”   
“I know.” Dean mumbled, inhaling Cas's scent and trying to memorize it. They were silent for a moment, just breathing in the morning light. “It doesn't make it hurt any less.” Dean mumbled, burying his face into Cas's neck. Cas rubbed Dean's back lightly.   
“I know.” Cas responded.   
Dean gulped and cringed at the coffee taste in his mouth, knowing he needed it to stay alive on this trip. Dean almost wondered if the drive was worth it when he decided to take it. The total time in the car was 18 hours, and he knew he'd only get to see Cas for the night, and then have to drive the same boring ass 18 hours again. Then Dean remembered seeing Cas in his punk costume and decided, yes, it was very worth it.   
About nine hours later Dean decided to pull over and stay at the same crappy little motel somewhere in Colorado, he wasn't quite sure where, the towns had all been a blur to him. He checked in and ran to get a burger and some beer and then went back to his motel. He picked up his phone and called his husband.  
“Hey. Where are you?” Cas's worried voice sounded instantly.   
“I'm at the motel in Colorado.”   
“I wish you'd just take a plane. All of this driving isn't good for you. And we could spend so much more time together-,”   
“You know that'll never happen.” Dean responded gruffly, getting uncomfortable just thinking about planes. His husband was right, though. It would've made everything easier.   
“I know, love. How was the drive?”   
“Hell. At least when I was on my way to Vegas I was driving to you. Driving away from you feels all kindsa wrong, Cas.” Dean could picture Cas smiling at that.   
“It felt wrong for me too. I wish you could've stayed forever.”   
“Me too. How was your day?”   
“It was okay. Just trained, trained some more, did some yoga, I think I ate food . . . I did. I ate a bagel. And a banana.”   
“You need to eat real food if you're burning calories like that. We've had this conversation.”   
“I know I just get distracted by dancing and I forget. I'll call Meg and see what she's up to after this so we can go get food, I promise.”   
“Good little angel. I think I'm going to eat dinner and hit the sack.”   
“Alright. I love you, Mr. Winchester. Sleep well, call me when you get up.”   
“I love you too, Mr. Winchester. And will do.” The line went dead. 

Castiel: 

Castiel frowned down at the phone in his hand.   
“You're going to have to tell him at some point.” Claire mumbled from the bed. She had come back with him after practice and the two were probably going to go to dinner at some point with Meg. Castiel sighed.   
“I know I just . . . I don't know how to phrase it.”   
Earlier on in the day they had been assigned their new dance partners, and something new had happened. Castiel had been assigned a guy dance partner. The man's name was Michael, he was tall, black hair, blue eyes, and frankly dreamy. But Castiel didn't even consider other people anymore, not that he did much in the first place. He was so happy with Dean he didn't see a point in really looking at people romantically. Kat made a big deal about the “unique” pairing for the cameras and then pulled Castiel aside.   
“Kat what the hell?” Castiel asked her.   
“I know, I know. Normally we divide the genders equally, but your dance with Dean was so amazing last year and they just-,”   
“They are putting me in a very . . . awkward position.”   
“Well, Castiel, frankly when you signed on for this season you were aware you could possibly be put in any position.” She gave him a tight lipped smile. “I'm sorry but this is what the studio wants . . .” Castiel sighed and glanced back over to Michael.   
“It's fine, Kat. I know you're just doing your job. And you're right, I signed on for this.” They walked into their training room together and found Mia Michaels waiting for them there. She hugged them both and then got down to business.   
“This is going to be a romantic dance, there's just no other way to put it.” She said, eying Castiel warily, as if waiting for his protest. He gave none. “It's set to Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheran and the dance is going to be rather intimate.” She went on about the piece, about how they were supposed to play lovers set on staying together forever, and how at the end of the dance Michael had to propose to Castiel, and Castiel had to accept and kiss him. A real, very romantic kiss. Castiel was worried to say the least.   
“I have no idea how I'm going to tell him.” Castiel moaned as he sat down next to Claire. “He's not going to take this well, no matter what.”   
“Well . . .” Claire said, not looking up from her phone. “You're not really in love with this Mitchel dude. You're in love with Dean. Plus you signed that contract saying you'd do whatever, it's like Kat said earlier, this is what you signed on for.”   
“I know but . . .”   
“Still feels like cheating, right?”   
“Yeah. Still feels like cheating.” They went out for dinner and the entire meal Castiel stared off into space, contemplating how he was going to tell his husband. 

Dean: 

It had been a long week of hard work. He was constantly going back and forth from the Juvenile detention center where he worked, teaching juvenile delinquent kids how to dance in order to release some of their pent up anger, and Castiel's dance studio. Dean typically split his days up so he was working at his job from 8-5, like normal, and then afterward he'd go over to Angel Dance Studio and talk with the guy running the place, Cole. Dean didn't really like Cole very much. He was younger but he acted like he knew everything and every time Dean tried to give him advice on any one subject, Cole acted affronted. Dean had voiced his complaints many times to Cas since Cas had hired the guy, and Cas had agreed with most of them after a while. Cas had only kept him around because he was a great dancer and a good instructor. He was also the only one of the instructors that worked for Cas that was willing to take on the responsibility of running the studio with Dean for the next few months. The rest of the instructors got along with Dean much better, but they all had other time constraints to take care of. Cole had a wife and kid himself, but he still was able to work more than everyone else.   
“You really put that guy in charge?” Dean demanded when Cas had told him who he'd have to work with. Cas grimaced.   
“I had to, no one else could do it.” Dean threw his head back dramatically on the couch.   
“We're going to kill each other.” Cas settled himself into Dean's lap and brushed his hands over Dean's shoulders.   
“I have faith in you.” Cas had said, kissing Dean's neck. Dean sighed into Cas's touch.   
“Well when you put it like that . . .”   
Dean glared at the truck that had just cut him off and grumbled under his breath. Going to the studio with Cole running things already had him in a bad mood, did he really need to be cut off by assholes along the way? Dean parked his truck behind the studio and let himself in the back. He was there to run two of the after school sessions and then check up on the books with Cole. He was already in his dancing clothes from his job, so he just sat his stuff down in Cas's office. He smiled briefly at the picture Cas had on their desk, it was both of them after their famous “Turning Page” routine on the show last season, they were covered in paint and grinning ear to ear in the camera with their faces pressed up against each other. Dean toed off his shoes and padded his way into the studio, stretching his shoulders as he did so. Cole was there waiting for him.   
“Winchester.” Cole regarded him, coldly. Dean tried for politeness.   
“How's it goin' Cole?” Cole scoffed. Dean shuddered inwardly, just wanting to punch the guy in the face for no reason.   
“It's going great, of course.” He answered. Dean fought back the glare sneaking its way to the surface of his eyes.   
“That's good. So the classes today went good?”   
“Yes. That's what I just said, don't you listen?” Dean took a steadying breath and decided to change the subject.   
“Are you staying for my classes?”   
“Well I have to for us to have that meeting over finances, so I figured I'd just sit in and teach them with you. Can never hurt to have two instructors.” Dean wanted to scream.   
“You could go get food or something, I know you've been here all day. . .” Cole just threw him a nasty smile.   
“What Dean, you don't want me around?”   
“Uh . . . that's not-,” Luckily he was saved as the students started pouring in the door. Dean released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. They taught the class together, fighting each other the entire way. It was a hip hop class, Dean's specialty and Cole's weakness. Cole was a contemporary dancer at heart. At one point it seemed like Cole had one half of the room doing once dance, and Dean had half of them doing a different one. Finally both sessions were over and Dean could go to the back with Cole and finish up the finances and then leave. The finances were another struggle. Getting anything done with Cole was a struggle.   
When Dean finally got home he was exhausted and drenched in sweat, and he couldn't tell if it was from the dancing or from fighting with Cole. He turned on the hot water and got in the shower immediately, plugging his phone into their Ihome and blaring classic rock music. If Cas were here, he would've climbed in the shower with Dean and massaged his shoulders, and then he would make a quip about how Dean should stop taking “rage showers” and how he needed to take his own advice and release his anger. Dean stared at the empty space in the large shower beside him. He got out of the shower and toweled off, then wrapped a towel around his waist, not quite ready to put on clothes yet. He sat down on the edge of the bed and called Cas.   
“Hey love.” Cas answered on the first ring. “You haven't called all day, I was starting to get worried!”   
“I just got home.” Dean groaned. “What time is it anyway?” Dean checked the clock. Almost ten. And he had to be up early tomorrow for work. “Ughhhh I'm dying. Could you come home already?”   
“I'm sorry, Dean. I know you are being worn thin-,”   
“I didn't say that for you to apologize, Cas. It's fine. I just . . . I miss you every second. And I hate that asshole you have working for you.”   
“He was the only one willing- I told you.” Cas responded, Dean could hear the aggravation in the phone line.   
“I know but he's an asshole.”   
“Well I'm sorry you two don't get along, but he's always gotten along well enough with me. I guess you two will just have to work it out. There's still eight more weeks of this competition-,”   
“I know how much longer it is. I'm not stupid.”   
“I wasn't calling you stupid Dean!” Dean felt like all of his muscles were so tense at this point that he was going to snap like a rubber band. “Have you eaten food?” Cas demanded out of the blue.   
“ . . . not dinner. . .”   
“Go eat something, Dean, and call me back when you're not being a grouchy asshole.” the line went dead. Dean was tempted to throw the phone across the room. His hand shook with rage. He realized Cas was right though, he needed food. When he didn't get food he was a bit of a monster. . . still. Cas wasn't being much better. Dean got up, put clothes on, and went into the kitchen to make himself dinner. 

Castiel: 

“Did you tell him yet?” Meg asked Castiel, ruffling his hair the morning before the new episode . It was like they were placing bets now on how Dean would take the news, Balthazar, Meg, and Claire all kept pestering him.   
“No. Not yet.” Meg looked concerned for him.   
“Do you remember, a year ago, when Dean had wanted to tell you that he had shared that you two were dating on the air, and he couldn't figure out a way to tell you, and then he didn't, and you got really mad?”   
“Of course-,”   
“This is pretty much exactly the same thing.” Castiel wanted to argue with her about it, but he realized she was right.   
“I was going to tell him last night . . . but we had a fight . . . it would've been a really bad time . . .”   
“You two had a fight?”   
“It was little. He just . . . had a long day and he was hungry and tired and grouchy.” Castiel turned his phone over again and again in his hand. He should call Dean back now and apologize for calling him an asshole, and thank him for all the sacrifices he was making for the studio. For Castiel. For some reason he couldn't bring himself to dial Dean's number. Not quite yet. He wasn't awake enough for it yet. He ate breakfast, two pieces of toast and a banana, and then headed over to the studio to work with Michael.   
“It's the day before the routine . . .” Mia started, glancing at Castiel. She had been giving him uncomfortable glances all week, and even pulled him aside a few times to “talk about it”. “We need to practice the kiss. We've been putting it off but-,”   
“No, it's cool. I know.” Castiel said, frowning slightly. Michael was a cool enough guy, kind of distant, he was in no way looking to be Castiel's best friend, but he kept it professional. When they were dancing Michael was in character 100% of the way, and then the moment they stopped dancing, Michael dropped the act and just became Michael. He was almost stoic. Just silently appraising everything. Castiel had talked to him very little, and when he did it was mostly about the routine. Michael looked him slowly up and down.   
“Are you comfortable with this?” Castiel asked him. Michael just shrugged.   
“Are you asking if I'm gay, or a homophobe?”   
“No I just . . .”   
“I'm gay.” Michael blurted out awkwardly. “But that doesn't mean I'm in love with you or anything.” Mia was standing off to the side, listening to this little conversation. “You're weird dude, you stare off into space all the time, you have an . . . odd sense of humor and a terrible taste in music. I mean . . .” Michael looked him up and down again, taking him in in a way that made Castiel fidget slightly. “I mean I guess you're hot enough, but I don't think you're my type.” Castiel couldn't tell if he felt offended or not.   
“Well, what's your type?” Castiel asked, getting in Michael's space a little bit.   
“Your husband is kind of my type.” Now Cas was mad.   
“He's my husband!” Castiel shouted despite himself.   
“Relax, dude. I was just using him as an example. I'm not into your husband. And even if I was, you two don't look at anyone but each other. I'd never to get him. You'd beat me every time.” Castiel tried to take controlled breaths. Michael wasn't trying to be offensive . . . he just . . . was offensive. He rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and kiss me.” Michael grabbed him by the back of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Castiel felt awkward. It felt wrong. Where Dean's lips were soft and smooth Michael's were hard and demanding. Where Dean's kisses were emotion and love, Michael's kiss was just . . . nothing. It was a movement of lips. Castiel didn't know what to do with his hands, they kind of awkwardly hovered over Michael's shoulders. Their teeth knocked together, and their noses were mashed uncomfortably. They pulled apart and regarded each other as one would regard an unsatisfactory cheeseburger. There was a look of disgust in both of their eyes.   
“Okay. Let's try that again, but less awkward and more . . .romance? And it'd be great if you could not pull away and look like you hate each other. How about we set up the scene? Michael, here's the box with the ring in it, do the last few steps in the dance and lead up to that bit and really get into character, both of you.” Mia directed. They did so and then when it came time for the kiss again, Castiel tried. He really tried to be in character. Leading up to the kiss was fine, Michael proposed to him and Castiel tried to have his features light up and a giant smile and Michael looked happy enough and then Castiel flung himself at Michael, his arms came around Castiel and they felt so wrong and then their lips collided and Castiel had to fight back the urge to shove him away. He heard Mia groan. “This is going to be a long day.” They pulled apart again and their reactions after the kiss were a little bit better, there was still a veiled disgust in both of their faces but they were both hiding it better. “Castiel, who proposed to who? With you and Dean?” Mia asked suddenly. Castiel was taken off guard, he looked at Mia as if to decipher if she was joking or not.   
“Umm . . .he proposed to me.” Castiel told her when he realized she was serious.  
“Tell us the story. If you don't mind.”   
“No I . . . I don't . . .well . . . he told me he would, right away. He just always knew, I guess . . . so one night he whisks me away in his car and drives and drives until we're in the middle of nowhere, and he got out a picnic blanket and a basket and we were laying there, listening to music and he just . . . dropped on his knee and proposed, right there under the stars in the middle of nowhere. It was simple, very Dean Winchester. . .” Cas had gotten caught up in the story and found himself smiling because of it.   
“And you kissed him, right?” Castiel looked up at Mia, the trance broken.   
“Yes. I kissed him . . . and . . . other stuff.” He blushed.   
“Close your eyes, and when you kiss Michael, pretend you're there, pretend you're kissing Dean and pretend you just accepted his proposal.”   
“That seems . . . wrong.”   
“It will help you act like you actually want to kiss him. Just try it and if you're too uncomfortable, you can stop.” Michael nodded, they ran the scene again, and this time when their lips collided, Castiel let his mind wander back to that place, that night,   
“Cas you're the best thing that's ever happened to me and . . . well I've just known for this whole time we've been together that I wanted to marry you. I love you like I've never loved before, and I will never love again. Please, angel, marry me?”   
“Of course Dean.” Tears in his eyes, his shaky hand accepted the ring on his finger. It was perfect, just a silver ring with an inscription on the inside, their words “just breathe”. Dean stood up, crying himself and Castiel launched himself into his arms and kissed him so passionately he thought he would melt and turn to goo right there in the grass. Their bodies slid together like puzzle pieces, like two parts of a soul finally, blissfully combining and-,   
Michael pulled away, a new kind of respect in his eyes as he looked at Castiel.   
“Damn. That's how you two kiss?” Michael asked. Castiel was breathless. He wiped his hand across his mouth, realizing that it hadn't been Dean. No, of course it hadn't.   
“Uh . . .yeah?”   
“That was um . . . that was good.” Michael muttered, blushing a little. Castiel looked over to Mia who was smiling.   
“That was perfect Cas! Do you think you can do that tomorrow?” Castiel still felt wrong about it, but he nodded.   
“I can try.”   
“It will make or break this dance.” Castiel bit his abused lip.   
“I'll try really hard?” Mia patted him on the back.   
“That's what I like to hear.”


	5. Every Breaking Wave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for a beta! Also let me know what you think of this fic by leaving me a review. :) 
> 
> WARNING: Contains angst and mild(ish) allusions to rape

Dean: 

“Hey babe, I know you're probably busy getting ready for the show but I just wanted to let you know that I'm sorry about the other day, I was just tired and grumpy and hungry . . . but that's no excuse to be an ass to you. I love you and I'm so so proud of you and I can't wait to watch the show tonight. They're actually showing it at The Roadhouse so I'm going to go watch it with Ellen and a few of the guys from work. Cole is even going to show up and I'm going to try really hard to be-” beep.   
Dean looked down at his phone and sighed. He and Cas hadn't spoken for about a day now. He felt like his heart was shattering into a billion pieces. He tried to convince himself that the only reason Cas didn't answer was because he was busy getting ready for the show. He sent Cas a text and prayed Cas would call him back soon and they would be alright. He knew it was a stupid little fight, really nothing. He tried to reassure himself everything would be fine. It'd be fine, right? He locked up Angel Dance Studio and headed out to the Impala, turning on the radio as he was driving to The Roadhouse to calm him down. Some U2 song came on and he turned it up.   
If you go, if you go your way and I'll go mine   
are we so, are we so helpless against the tide?  
Baby every dog on the street  
knows that we're in love with defeat  
are we ready to be swept off our feet?  
And stop chasing every breaking wave?  
Dean let the melody wash over him and took a deep breath. He smiled at the sun setting over the fields. Cas wasn't really mad at him. Cas loved him, even when he was being an asshole. This would all work out just fine. He allowed his anxiety to wash away and got excited about seeing his buddies from work (even if it meant seeing Cole) and watching his gorgeous husband on the television with them.   
I thought I heard the captain's voice  
But it's hard to listen while you preach  
Like every broken wave on the shore  
This is as far as I could reach  
Dean thought he'd reach as far as he possibly could for Cas. If he had to drive across the country again this weekend, so help him, he'd do it if that meant proving himself to Cas. Cas was the most important thing in his life, and he loved him with every fiber of his being. 

Castiel: 

Castiel was in a panic. All day had been spent in rehearsal, half of it had been kissing Michael, which Castiel felt just awful about. His lips felt so violated, and he felt even worse that he was getting used to it- no, he was getting good at it. Michael had even smiled the last time they had kissed, rubbing his jaw a little bit.   
“You're a lot better than I originally gave you credit for. I believe I'll be able to fake liking that kiss rather easily.” He admitted. Castiel couldn't tell if he was proud or disgusted with himself. He had wanted to call Dean all day, but between rehearsal and misplacing his phone, there was never a moment. He had to tell him, had to confess to Dean before he saw it on the screen. He had to make up with Dean after their fight, stupid as it was. He had to let Dean know he loved him. Not that Dean didn't know, they were married for goodness sake, but still. He had to say it again. The show had already started and Castiel sat backstage letting the makeup crew work him over while he jittered nervously. One of the girls who regularly worked on him chuckled.   
“Geez Cas, I haven't seen you this nervous since your first show. What's gotten into you?”   
“I don't mean to be rude, but can you just hurry? I desperately need to call Dean.” She nodded sympathetically and swept the powder brush over his face again. He was wearing loose fitting white pants and an unbuttoned see through white shirt for this piece. His jittering was probably just slowing down the makeup process. He wanted to call Dean before he went on, just to make up with him quickly and then explain the routine so Dean wasn't caught off guard and apologize ahead of time and-,  
“Castiel, you're up! Get on the wings!”   
“NO! I HAVE TO DO A THING!” He yanked himself out of the makeup crew's annoyed hands and ran to the side of the stage, yanking out his phone.  
“CASTIEL!”   
“I'LL BE QUICK I PROMISE!” Somewhere in his mind the fact that he could be literally holding up the entire show made itself known, but he pushed it away and dialed Dean's number.   
“Hey babe I was-,”   
“DEAN! Dean listen I'm sorry about the fight and I love you so much and I'm really sorry for what's about to happen I didn't have much say I just want you to know that I love you and I should've told you sooner and I know that and I apologize I just couldn't find the words to tell you but I didn't want you to see it and not have any sort of explanation-,”   
“Whoa whoa whoa babe, slow down!” The noise in the background of the call quieted, noise Castiel had been too busy yammering to notice at first. “What's going on? Explanation for what?” Dean asked him.   
“The routine. It's a gay couple proposing to the other one and there's a kiss.” The line was silent and Castiel felt his heart beat throughout his body.   
“CASTIEL NOW! THE REEL IS ALREADY PLAYING!” Someone shouted. Hands were yanking him towards the stage.   
“Dean! Dean I have to go but I love you and I'm sorry-,” The line went dead and Castiel wasn't sure if Dean had hung up on him or if someone had yanked his phone out of his hand and ended the call, because the next thing he knew he was standing in his position on the stage. The song started up slow and sweet, and Castiel tried to train his expression into one of love and awe, tried his hardest to think of Dean, but ever movement was torture. He felt like every muscle in his body was being stabbed with knives, like all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and call Dean back. He continued the movement, looking at Michael and trying to forget how wrong this was. Trying to envision Dean. Suddenly, Michael's brown eyes were replaced with smiling green ones. Castiel found dancing less painful. He let the song carry him into Dean's arms, swaying with him and spinning around the stage pressed against Dean's body. It was only after his lips found Dean's that he reality set in, and he realized no, this was not Dean. This was Michael. The crowd's applause seemed deafening and echoed uncomfortably in his ears. The judge's praise fell upon him and Castiel wasn't sure he heard a word of it. All he wanted to do was go backstage, to his phone, and call his husband back. Michael squeezed his shoulders and told him,   
“You did really great!” Where the camera's couldn't hear. Castiel smiled for the cameras but as soon as they were backstage he jerked away and ran to the bitch- . . .no, the lady who had taken his phone and snatched it from her and found Dean's contact immediately. 

Dean: 

Dean had hardly gotten to wrap his mind around what Cas was saying when the line went dead and everyone started crowding around the screen.   
“CAS IS ON!” Someone shouted. Dean was ushered over to the bar by someone, he didn't know who. His mind was still buzzing. A gay couple? A kiss? What kind of kiss- then Dean heard the music. He watched in horror as the song started up and Castiel glided across the stage in his beautiful movement that only he could produce. The words of the song were mocking Dean, he felt like the romantic melody was a prison cell. He watched as another man pressed himself up to his husband and rolled his body against him, and Cas smiling like nothing was wrong. The bar went silent, an awkwardness permeated the air and Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. The ending was even worse. Michael got down on one knee and tears- actual fucking tears lined Cas's eyes right before he jumped into Michael's arms and gave him a kiss to last the ages.   
Dean couldn't breathe, there was no air. He didn't know how, but somehow he was outside in the alley, leaning up against the brick wall looking up at the night sky, huffing giant breaths of cool night air. A sound was making its way into his consciousness, accomplished by a feeling, a sort of buzzing against his leg. His phone, he realized. He took it out and saw Cas's name light up the screen. He didn't think before answering it, realizing afterward he wasn't sure if he could form complete words at the moment.   
“Dean I'm so sorry I wanted to tell you but I couldn't find a way, it didn't mean anything I swear I just . . . Dean?” Dean realized how silent he was being. He opened his mouth to speak. “Dean say something!”   
“I don't know what to say . . .” He gasped truthfully. “You looked . . . happy.”  
“I wasn't, Dean, I was dying inside-,”  
“Right, because all of a sudden, you're a good actor.” Dean finally found his voice.   
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” Castiel shouted back.  
“You looked really fucking happy, Cas!”   
“I was pretending it was you!”   
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Because it doesn't!” There was a pause.   
“Dean it didn't mean anything to me. None of it did. It was a routine, it was in my contract, I literally couldn't opt out-,” Dean became aware of his surroundings all at once. A dark alley, a flickering light, cold chilled his bones, and a shadow crept up in the distance. He pushed it from his mind.   
“Cas stow the crap man-” The phone was suddenly knocked out of his hand and shattered on the ground. Dean's head snapped up. “WHAT THE FU-” a gun barrel was pressed against his head. His words died in his throat.   
“Not another word, or I shoot.” Dean swallowed thickly. He looked his assailant in the eyes, the cold, pale blue eyes. Alistair. He blinked in recognition as Alistair pulled off the ski mask.   
“Miss me, Deano?” He rasped. He smelled of alcohol.   
“Every day, buddy.” Dean glared, noting that now might not be the best time for sarcasm.   
“Turn around.”   
“Just take my wallet and leave.” The gun was shoved into his forehead, sending his head cracking against the wall. His vision went blurry.  
“Turn. The. Fuck. Around.” Alistair ordered. Dean finally felt something like fear sink into his bones as he followed Alistair's orders. “Hands on the wall.” He whispered. Dean thought he felt a chill go down his spine at the way Alistair as whispering and not screaming. Hands grazed his sides.   
“I served six months in prison because of you.”   
“I'm sorry-,”   
“No you're not, Dean. But you're about to be.” 

Castiel: 

Castiel stood backstage, staring at nothing. He didn't know how long he stood there like that, but at some point Meg found him and hugged him.   
“He didn't take it well?” Castiel shook his head, tears in his eyes.   
“He hung up on me and won't answer his phone.” Meg frowned.   
“That doesn't sound like Dean. I mean even when he hangs up on you he can't stay away for long . . .”   
“I fucked up. I really, really fucked up.” Castiel murmured to himself.   
“I'm sure you two will fix this, in the mean time, I have an idea.”   
“Oh?” Castiel asked her.   
“Let's go get drunk.” Meg answered mischievously.  
Getting drunk might not have been the best idea. Castiel ended up just becoming even more morose and all he wanted to do was call Dean and leave him angry voice mail messages. So, as soon as they left the bar, both staggering and swaying, Castiel pulled out his phone.   
“You listen to me, Dean Winchester. What I did tonight was in my contract. I couldn't not do it and I didn't want to do it and all I wanted was to kiss you instead! So HOW DARE YOU hang up on me and then . . . and THEN not answer my calls! You're an assbutt!! An assbutt and a fuckface. And I'm very mad! You have no right to make a big deal about this! I mean if you want to fight that bad, maybe we should just break up! No- Meg stopppp!” He whined as Meg took away his phone and hung up for him.   
“Rule number one of being drunk, no phones.” Meg ordered, before hailing them a taxi. 

Dean: 

“DEAN??” A voice shouted, rousing him from the blackness he was swimming in. He blinked, hazy lights filling his vision. “Dean can you hear me?!” Someone lifted his head from the shards of broken glass it was laying in, everything felt sore. “Holy shit- Dean?!” Dean blinked again and recognized Cole, of all people.   
“Mmm'here.” He forced out between bloody teeth. Every nerve in his body was screaming at him. He felt some warmth on his legs and saw Cole moving to cover him up. He hadn't realized how cold he had become.   
“I'm going to call 911! Who did this to you?” Dean placed a hand on his.   
“No. Just . . .” The pain made it impossible to speak for a moment. “Just take me to a hospital. It was Alistair.” Cole regarded his broken form for a moment then nodded, gathering Dean up in his arms and carrying him to his car, a beat up old van. He lay Dean in the front seat and Dean looked down at himself. His lower half was in tatters, his jeans cut up and ripped apart. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and blood was crusted all over his face. He felt like he might have a broken rib, or three, but he wasn't quite sure yet. His knuckles were bruised and his hands, back and head were cut from glass that had been on the ground. Pain radiated from sitting, and he had to lean back heavily on the seat to avoid the weight of his body being placed too heavily on his bottom. He ground his eyes shut and bit his swollen lips while Cole drove. He didn't ask questions, just drove in silence, glancing over at Dean every once in a while as if to make sure he was still breathing. Dean thought it was a miracle he still was.  
When they got to the hospital Cole carried him in, covering him up as much as possible and told the nurses what had happened. They called the police and treated to his wounds while they waited for the police to get there. They took samples off of Dean for evidence and cleaned him up as best they could.   
“Have you notified his next of Kin?” The nurse asked Cole, who hadn't left the room, just been on the other side of a curtain for Dean's privacy. Cole looked over at Dean now, the curtain pulled away.  
“No, I haven't yet. Just with everything going on . . .”   
“That would probably be a wise course of action. We can always do it if you don't want to.” Cole ran a hand through his hair and nodded. Dean waited until she left the room before Dean called him over.   
“Cole man . . . uh . . . you can't tell Cas. I want to talk to him I just . . . I need time.” Cole nodded understandingly.   
“I get it. It's your business anyway, not mine. Whatever you want dude.” Dean nodded.  
“Thank you. For everything.” Dean whispered, not believing anything about tonight. Not the words leaving his mouth, the person who had helped him . . . the person who had hurt him. Cole sat down in an uncomfortable looking chair next to Dean's bed.   
“The cops seem to think they'll be able to catch him and put him away for a long ass time. Fucker deserves it.” Dean nodded, closing his eyes tight for a moment, breathing through the pain. They had given him morphine for the pain and it was starting to kick in, but not fast enough.   
“You uh . . . you don't have to stay if you don't want to man, you've done enough.” Dean told him, trying to dismiss this person who wasn't even his friend. Cole's mouth thinned into a tight line.   
“It's all good, I already called my wife and told her what happened. I'm going to stay with you. Cas isn't here I figure . . . well he told me to take care of his studio, and he's my boss. You're as much apart of him as that studio is- if not more. Plus it's just the decent human thing to do.” Dean was speechless. Maybe it was the morphine kicking in, but Cole was actually sounding like a decent human now. In fact, Dean felt like an ass for ever fighting with him in the first place. “It's alright, I was an ass too.” Cole said. Dean didn't even realize he had said his thoughts out loud. Morphine, right.   
He drifted off into a fitful sleep full of blood, broken glass, and pain.


	6. The Break

Castiel: 

Everything was buzzing, ever fiber of his being felt sore. He blinked open his eyes warily. There was a knock at the door that was all too loud.   
“CAS GET THE FUCK UP WE'RE GONNA BE LATE!” it was Meg. Castiel shuffled to the door and threw it open.   
“I hate you for letting me drink that much.” He groaned.   
“Yeah yeah, shut up and wash your face and brush your teeth. You smell like a bar bathroom.” Castiel squinted and tried to recall if he had ended up on the floor of the bar bathroom at some point, or if that was just a random picture he had in his head. No, there had definitely been cool tile pressed up to his skin at some point during the night.   
“Do I have time for a shower?” He asked, running his hand through sticky hair. Had he gotten beer in his hair? What was this mystery substance? He hadn't ever partied that hard in his life. Meg checked her watch.   
“Make it fast, unicorn.” Castiel glared at the name but didn't say anything, just started shuffling around his room, popping some advil in his mouth and chugging a glass of water. It wasn't until he was in the shower, starting to feel alive under the stream of hot water that something came back to him.   
“SHIT!” He screamed, punching the wall as soon as he remembered.   
“Cas? You okay?” Meg called from the other side of the bathroom door.   
“DID I CALL DEAN LAST NIGHT?” He asked over the sound of the water.   
“. . .SHIT!” Meg responded. So yes then. He had drunk dialed his husband. . . and if his fragmented memories had anything truthful at all in them, it hadn't been a very nice voice-mail he had left. He ran out of the shower, towel still around his waist when he stormed into the hotel room to grab his phone. Meg raised an eyebrow at the towel, but said nothing.   
“Do you remember what I said to him?” Castiel asked her frantically. Meg shook her head.   
“Not a clue. Hurry up and get dressed, we have to get going.” Castiel checked his phone. No missed calls, no texts. He remembered Dean hadn't called him back after he had hung up on him last night, but he would've figured by now . . . he checked his outgoing calls. Sure enough, he had called Dean at three in the morning. Castiel groaned and grabbed his clothes and ran into the bathroom to change into them. He and Meg piled into the taxi and Castiel called Dean on the way to the studio. It went straight to voice-mail. Now Castiel was really starting to worry. Had he pissed his husband off so bad that Dean wouldn't talk to him? He left a quick message.   
“Hey Dean, listen I'm incredibly sorry, about everything. I love you so so very much and I didn't mean a word of whatever I said last night when I was drunk. I need to talk to you. I need to hear your voice. We can work this out. I love you. Call me back when you get this.” Castiel bit his lip in worry and glanced up when Meg pressed a cup of hot coffee into his hand. She sensed his worry and nudged him with her shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips.   
“Hey, don't worry unicorn, you two will get over it. You always do.”   
“Yeah. We always do.” Even as the words left Castiel's mouth, the felt false. 

Dean: 

“Thanks.” Dean said to Cole as Cole handed him a new bag. Luckily Cole had thought to pick up the shattered remains of his phone last night and they'd been able to get the sim card out of the wreckage so Dean could transfer phones easily enough. At the thought of telling Cas what had happened last night a lump formed in Dean's throat. He wasn't sure what Cas's reaction would be. Would he drop the show and fly back to Dean right away? Did Dean want that? He had to think of the fight that was happening right before Alistair . . . found him. He had been mad at Cas for dancing romantically with another dude. For kissing another dude. It wasn't even that, it was just that . . . Cas hadn't told him before hand. Had he been secretive about more than one thing? Why would Cas even feel the need for secrecy? Cole helped him set up his phone and plug it into the charger, when it turned on Dean checked it. Two messages from Cas. He pressed his ear to the phone and listened to the first one.   
“You listen to me, Dean Winchester. What I did tonight was in my contract. I couldn't not do it and I didn't want to do it and all I wanted was to kiss you instead! So HOW DARE YOU hang up on me and then . . . and THEN not answer my calls! You're an assbutt!! An assbutt and a fuckface. And I'm very mad! You have no right to make a big deal about this! I mean if you want to fight that bad, maybe we should just break up! No- Meg stopppp!”  
Dean felt anger well up inside him. He knew it wasn't practical of him, but for some reason he couldn't justify Cas being so mad at him when something so major had happened to him last night. How did Cas even get to be mad at Dean in the first place? The only reason Dean hadn't called him back was because . . . Dean listened to the second one.   
“Hey Dean, listen I'm incredibly sorry, about everything. I love you so so very much and I didn't mean a word of whatever I said last night when I was drunk. I need to talk to you. I need to hear your voice. We can work this out. I love you. Call me back when you get this.”   
He screwed his face up, which, in hindsight, hurt like hell. He glanced up at Cole who sat in the chair next to his bed, eating a bag of chips.   
“Do you mind if uh . . . I have some privacy for a sec, Cole? I need to call Cas.” Cole nodded and got up.   
“Yeah no problem man. I need to step out and get some real food anyway. You want anything?”   
“A real cheeseburger would be great. This hospital food.” Cole made a face.   
“Dude I know. I know a great place not too far from here, be back soon.” Cole grabbed his phone from where it was charging. “Call if you think of anything else.” He said with a small smile.   
“Hey Cole?” Cole turned back towards him. “Thank you. For everything.” Cole shrugged.   
“You don't have to keep thankin' me man. Like I said, it was the right thing to do.” Dean nodded.  
“Still. Thanks.” Cole nodded and walked out of the room. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Dean called Cas. It took two rings for him to answer but when he finally did he sounded winded.   
“Dean? Oh my god I thought- Yeah yeah just hold on I have to take this, I'm sorry Tabitha.”   
“Nappytabs?” Dean asked, his voice sounding broken to him.   
“Yeah, got hip hop this week.” The volume behind Cas quieted down, Dean guessed he had gone out into a hallway or something. “Listen Dean about last night-,”   
“You got drunk.” Dean stated. There was a pause.   
“I did . . . I don't normally . . . well . . . you know. I was pretty torn up after our fight and you just hung up on me and then didn't answer your calls and I don't know Meg suggested it and it seemed like a good idea-,”   
“Were you mad at me last night?” Dean asked, his voice icy.   
“ . . . Yes Dean, I was. You were mad at me, and I can see that you had some cause, but I was just doing my job.”   
“You didn't tell me.” Dean was trying to keep the weakness out of his voice, the croak that signaled the fact he had been physically injured.   
“I didn't know how! We had just gotten in that fight and god I wanted to tell you all day but you know how it is on show days, I didn't get any time to myself! I kept reaching for my phone and I just . . . I didn't know how.”   
“You know you could've told me anything.”   
“The fact that you reacted so badly tells me that's a lie, Dean! That's exactly the reason I didn't tell you! And what the fuck was with you hanging up on me and then not answering your phone? Really?!” Now was the moment. Now was the time Dean was supposed to tell Cas what had really happened last night. He felt the words forming on his tongue.   
“Do you really want to break up?” Dean asked, softly. That hadn't been what he had meant to say, but the words came out of their own accord.   
“What? God no.” Cas responded immediately.   
“Well, I mean we can't tell each other anything! That seems to have always been our issue! You're too busy for a husband right now-”   
“You're the one who's too 'busy' to answer his goddamn phone!” Cas shouted back. Dean flinched.   
“I had reasons.” Dean said. Yet again, another perfect time to tell Cas. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to do it. For some reason he was falling into the same lack of communication pattern that they always did.   
“What reasons, Dean?” Dean heard Cas gasp. “Are you . . . are you seeing someone else?”   
“NO! Why the fuck would you even- Is that what you think of me?!”   
“Well if you want to break up so bad-,”   
“I NEVER SAID I WANTED TO BREAK UP, THAT WAS YOUR DUMB DRUNK ASS!”   
“MAYBE WE SHOULD.”   
“Cas . . .”   
“Maybe we should just take a break.” Cas's voice had gotten quiet now. A dead quiet rumble that struck fear into Dean's heart.   
“No-,”   
“Listen, you said it yourself. We can't communicate for shit. You get all stressed out and worked up and mad and then you don't say anything to me, and I'm afraid to tell you anything important because I'm afraid of how you'll react, and this isn't a healthy relationship anymore, Dean.”   
“What else are you afraid to tell me?” Dean asked, trying to find a way around this.   
“ . . . I got in a fight.”   
“YOU WHAT?”   
“Claire was in danger, a guy had a knife pressed to Claire and I didn't think, I just jumped in and got the knife from him and-,”   
“You put yourself in danger like that?!”   
“THIS IS EXACTLY WHY I DIDN'T WANT TO TELL YOU.” Dean felt like he couldn't breathe. “YOU ALWAYS OVERREACT! AND I'M NOT A FUCKING HELPLESS ANGEL DEAN! I CAN PROTECT MYSELF! I CAN PROTECT OTHER PEOPLE! I WAS DOING IT LONG BEFORE YOU CAME ALONG AND I'LL DO IT LONG AFTER-,”   
“AFTER WHAT CAS? AFTER WE'RE THROUGH?”   
“ . . . Let's just take a break.”   
“What the fuck does that even mean?”   
“It means I need time to think and you need time to not be such a . . . a dick all the time about everything!”   
“You're the one who-,”   
“Dean. I'm done with this conversation. When this season is over, I'll come back home and we'll work things out, but right now I just . . . I can't. I can't work on our relationship when we're this far apart. I can't work on shit when you hang up the phone and don't call me back for nearly a day. I can't. Goodbye Dean.” Dean felt like his heart was sinking in his chest.   
“Cas-,” The line went dead. So much for not hanging up on each other, Dean thought bitterly.


	7. I See You

Dean:

Dean slumped on the couch, groggily watching the colors dance across the TV, not that he was actually watching anything, just staring off into space thinking. He had tried to call Cas several times, but no answer. Finally Cas texted him,   
Angel: Dean I can't talk right now, I am working. . . I'll try and call you tonight but I don't know if I'm ready.   
Dean had frowned at the phone and sat it down, far away from him so as to resist the temptation to pick it up and call Cas again. It had been a week since the attack. The cops caught Alistair and took him to jail where he was awaiting trial. Dean knew he needed to tell Cas sooner rather than later, but at this point, the confession might just enact sympathy from Cas that Dean wasn't sure he wanted. Dean didn't want the attack to be a reason for them to stay together, not if they weren't any good together. The thought made his stomach hurt and his mouth dry. He took a swig of the cold beer in his hand. There was a knock on the door and he called for Cole to come in.   
Cole had in his hands a stack of paperwork so that Dean and he could look over the bills for Cas's studio, and a togo bag.   
“Brought you a cheeseburger and fries.” Cole said, smiling and dropping the food on the table. In the week since the attack Dean had called into both jobs, taking temporary leave. As soon as he explained to his boss at the Juvenile detention center what had happened, he said he understood and to come back whenever he was ready. Dean had thanked him profusely and sat around trying to put himself back together for a week. His attempts seemed futile, with everything falling apart in his relationship, it was all Dean could do to brush his teeth everyday and sometimes put on clothes besides the briefs and old tee he wore to bed.  
Cole had come over almost everyday, forced Dean to drink something besides beer, and made sure he ate some sort of food, and then looked at him worriedly.   
“How're you feelin'?” Cole asked, slyly replacing the beer in Dean's hand with water.   
“I'm not dead, I can see that's water, Cole.” Dean glared.   
“Well you're going to drink up all your beer, and I don't feel like a beer run. One water won't hurt.” Cole spat back, not actually mad. “Now answer me. How do you feel?” Dean grimaced and took a sip of the water.   
“The ribs are still giving me a hell of pain, but the cuts are healing up nicely. And uh . . . everything else is okay I guess.”   
“How long did they say till you're healed?” Cole asked, stealing a fry from him as Dean unwrapped the burger.   
“Doc said six weeks total, so I guess five weeks now. Good thing they were just fractured.”   
“How long till you can dance?” Dean looked at Cole with a squint.   
“Why? Trying to get me back in the studio? I'm just not sure-,”   
“No not the studio, me and some buddies are going out two steppin' tonight, and I figured it'd be good for you to get out.” Dean chewed his burger quietly.   
“I don't know . . .”   
“Dean, you've been cooped up here for a week, and you don't have to dance that much. Just get out, that's the whole point.” Dean was quiet and Cole sighed. “I'll buy all your beer and drive you home.”   
“ . . . Fine.” Dean answered. Cole rolled his eyes.   
“Knew that'd do the trick. Let's get this paperwork done, and then get you dressed in actual pants.” Dean looked down at his bare legs, the blanket was pulled over his lap so he wasn't that indecent.   
“Pants?” Dean asked.   
“Yes, Dean, pants.” Dean sighed dramatically.   
“You're lucky you offered beer.” Cole chuckled and shook his head and spread out the paperwork.   
“You uh . . .talk to Cas?” Cole had known that Dean didn't actually end up telling Cas what had happened, Cole had to know because Dean swore him to secrecy. No one but Cole knew, not even Sammy. If Dean told Sammy nothing short of hellfire would stop Sammy from telling Cas. Dean sat down his burger after only a few bites.   
“I didn't. He said he'd call me later . . .but I doubt it.” Dean looked at the paperwork, trying to avoid looking at Cole.   
“I don't like this man. You've gotta tell him what's going on . . .”   
“I can't do that if he won't talk to me, now can I?” Dean asked, gruffly.   
“Well I'm sure if-,”   
“Cole, let's just work on this and get goin'. I don't want to talk about it.” Cole grumbled something under his breath and they got to work. 

Castiel: 

Another competition night came and go, Castiel got fitted up in his outfit for the week's piece. He was dancing with a different person, a girl named Hael. They were doing a Nappytabs routine to a song Castiel had never heard of before and didn't particularly care for. All week he'd been in a funk, thinking about Dean, about the harsh words spoken quickly over the phone. Castiel sighed into the mirror, wishing he could see his husband . . . they were still husbands, he thought. Just . . . a break. A break was needed. He had told Meg that night, in his motel room, trying hard not to cry into her arms.   
“Why would you suggest a break if it's the last thing you want?” Castiel had sniffled a little bit.   
“Because maybe it's what we need . . .”   
“I think what you need is to go home, unicorn. You belong there with him, long distance is such a strain on any relationship, but you have to look at what's more important-,”  
“Meg I signed a contract to stay on until the end of the season, I have to. I don't have a choice. What am I supposed to say? Sorry, I have to go home and make up with my husband? That's not going to fly.” Meg rubbed his back soothingly.   
“I know, unicorn, I know . . . I just wish it would. Maybe you could lie, say Dean had some sort of medical emergency.” Castiel stiffened up.   
“Meg that's not even funny to say . . . oh god I don't even want to think about it . . .” Castiel felt like he would be sick. He couldn't imagine Dean hurting and without him. If that were the case, Castiel would take the first flight home no matter what it cost him. Hell, he'd run there if he had to.   
“Sorry.” Meg mumbled, continuing rubbing his back. “How about we just stay up and watch some weird movie?”   
“Fine, but I'm picking this time, last time we ended up at the movies watching Jupiter Ascending and that movie was pure awful.” Castiel groaned. Meg laughed.   
“I liked it-,”   
“The only reason you liked it was because I hated it!”   
“That is not true. Channing Tatum-,”  
“Was used as a total sex symbol and nothing else!” Cas argued, wrestling her for the remote.   
“A sexy sex symbol!”   
“A sex symbol nonetheless! And the plot holes-,”  
“Okay okay I get it!” She giggled as he tickled her playfully. “No more Jupiter.”   
“Never again!” He yelled in triumph as he wrestled the remote from her. “I say we stay in and watch . . .” Castiel scrolled through the list on the television. “The Fellowship of the Ring?”   
“Ugh. Again?” Meg whined, Castiel looked at her seriously.   
“Once cannot watch Lord of the Rings too many times, lady!”   
“But we seriously watched it last month-,”   
“Don't be such a Balrog.” Castiel told her. Meg raised an eyebrow at him.  
“Did you just . . . did you just compare me to a fiery devil monster?”   
“That I did, demon! Now fetch the sustenance so that we may feast in delight as companion to this great film!” Meg swatted him with a pillow.   
“Stop talking like a dork, it's bad enough that you look like one!” Castiel stuck his tongue out at her and they watched the film together.   
Cas fidgeted in his costume, feeling uncomfortable and out of his own skin. He knew it was ridiculous but he was dancing in Dean's genre, and at a time where they were fighting every movement reminded him of Dean. Every step he took, Dean echoed through his muscles. He remembered the pizza man routine from last season, and when he was dancing he was remembering the long hours spent practicing with Dean. The routine wasn't his best, the judges made sure to note that his head “just wasn't in the game” and Castiel couldn't argue. Luckily for him this didn't reflect too poorly on his partner, and he still managed make her look good, which is really all he was there for, for other people. After the show was over Castiel sat backstage for a long time, turning his phone over and over in his hand. His thumb hovered over Dean's name, and Meg came up.   
“Hey Unicorn you want to go grab something to eat, or are you just going to sit back here and sulk all night?” Castiel looked up at her and turned the screen off on his phone, sliding it into his pocket.   
“Yeah, let's go.” 

Dean: 

As soon as they stepped outside Dean regretted leaving the house. Part of him wanted to turn and run, but Cole seemed to sense this and gave him a look that said If you turn around now so help me I will drag you out of there so Dean decided it'd just be easiest to go along with it. They got in the car and Cole instantly put on some ACDC, as if knowing this would relax Dean. Dean tried not to think about how this was the car he was in that night. How he had felt like he was just shattered pieces in the passenger seat as Cole had driven them through the blackness. He took a deep breath and rolled the window down. When they finally got there Dean practically ran to the bar and ordered two beers, Cole had the bartender open up a tab for him and took the beer Dean handed him. The music was obnoxiously loud. Dean surveyed the room. There were multiple bars set up in every corner, and another in the middle of the dance floor, the dancers spun in a tight pack around it to the sound of country songs, the lights were spinning and changing color and it was all almost too much for Dean.   
He found a seat at the bar and drank quietly while Cole said hi to his friends. He introduced them to Dean but the music was too loud for Dean to hear any of their names, so he just smiled politely. He noticed several women and even a few men sizing him up, taking in the scruffy face and the green eyes that were bloodshot with trauma. As soon as they reached the eyes, most of them backed off. Something about healing cuts and red eyes said leave me alone and so they did. After a few beers, Dean couldn't help but remember when he and Cas had come out here, back when they had first started dating, after they had gotten home from the competition.  
The night had started simple. Dean had it in his mind that he was going to take his new boyfriend out country dancing, knowing Cas was really more of a stay at home type guy, this would take just a little bit of convincing on Dean's part. He stopped at the store on the way home from work and picked up food to make dinner and some flowers. Dean laughed at himself, buying roses. It was cheesy, it was weird. Dean didn't typically buy flowers for anyone. But Cas liked Yellow roses, with just a hint of orange at the tips. Dean rolled his eyes that he had even remembered such a fact, he never had before. But Cas was different. When Cas walked in the door, it was to the smell of steaks grilling out back, sauteed potatoes, green beans just the way he liked them, and a handful of yellow roses. As Dean handed them to Cas, he tried his hardest not to blush.   
“Thank you Dean!” Cas exclaimed, grinning wildly. “Yellow roses are-,”   
“Your favorite, I know. They look like a sunset painted on each petal.” Dean answered. Now it was Cas's turn to blush.   
“You really listen to everything I say, don't you?” Cas asked. Dean pulled him forward by the belt oops on his jeans.   
“Most things.” He smirked before kissing his boyfriend.   
“Aren't you going to dance at all?” Cole asked him over the music. Dean looked around at the options. There was Cole himself, but that would feel wrong. He supposed he could dance with one of the many women checking him out, but he shrugged forlornly,   
“Uhh . . . I don't see . . . “  
“You don't see Cas?” Cole asked, frowning a little.   
“No I don't.” Dean answered, taking another sip of his beer. It was a lie. He saw Cas everywhere. As if the DJ could hear them, the song I See You by Luke Bryan came on.   
“Oh C'mon man, I love this song. Dance with me, just one dance, we'll go slow!” Dean gave him an odd look.   
“I'm married, bro, and straight. I'm just comfortable enough to dance with my guy friends. Plus, i'm a dancer. I don't judge by the junk I judge by the talent. Let's go!” Cole grabbed onto Dean's hand and led him through the bar. They stood far apart, nothing like when he and Cas had swayed together.   
Dean had to try really hard to keep his cool at the fact Cas agreed to go out dancing with him so easily. They hadn't been since the competition, and Dean was excited to dance with Cas again, like he always was when he got to dance with his boyfriend. As soon as they walked in he pulled Cas out to the dance floor and spun him a few times before settling into an easy rhythm. Cas had looked mournfully at the bar but laughed with is head thrown back when Dean grinned a goofy grin at him as they spun around the floor, pressing their bodies together.  
Luke Bryan cut through Dean's concentration as Cole spun him slowly, watching out for his left side with his hurt ribs. Cole was smiling and Dean smiled uneasily at him as they fell back into rhythm, avoiding people on the floor as best they could. It wasn't Cole's fault Dean's mind was hundreds of miles away.   
Cas's blue eyes had twinkled up at him as he threw in complicated spins Cas had never done before. But that's what Dean loved about dancing with Cas, Cas was good at improvisation. He went along with the spins as if he'd been doing them all his life, and when Dean lifted him up and flipped him even though Cas shook his head at Dean a smile stayed glued to his face.   
“I told you no more flips Dean Winchester!”   
“I can't help showing you off, babe!” Dean answered back with a wink, spinning Cas along with the chorus again.   
Someone bumped into them, an elbow was thrown accidentally into Dean's left side and he stumbled into Cole, who caught him easily, glaring at the other couple and helping to lead Dean off the dance floor. Dean could've sworn he saw Cas's worried blue gaze somewhere. Maybe alcohol, pain killers, and spinning was a bad idea. There was no way it was Cas. Dean sat on a bar stool, his vision going a little fuzzy around the edges, trying to take deep breaths.   
“I'm so sorry man, that was a bad idea-,” Dean nodded and waved him off, attempting to block out the pain enough to talk. He ended up just staring off into space, finding Cas's eyes again. Dean could've sworn he was making his way over to the bar where Dean sat, and his eyes followed the gorgeous man, all attempts at catching his breath forgotten as Cas pressed a hand to his cheek.   
“Are you okay, love?” Castiel asked him.   
“Dean? Dean are you okay?” Cole asked him. Dean blinked and Cas was gone.   
“Uhh . . .Uhuh.” Dean wheezed, bent in half, trying not to feel his ribs anymore. “M'fine.”   
“We should probably leave.” Cole said, apologizing to his friends and trying to get Dean to move. “Can you walk?” It was then that Dean saw someone new. Alistair, he had that shit eating grin on his face, blood spattered on his chin from where Dean's fist had split his lip.   
“Just . . .please . .. stop.” Dean had wheezed, pain erupting from his ribs where Alistair had kicked him.   
“Oh I have such plans for you, Winchester.” Dean stood back up, the left side of his body felt like collapsing, but he stood back up, fists ready.   
“Back the fuck off!” Alistair waved his gun boldly in the air.   
“You're in no position to be talking, scum.” Dean froze in horror again as Alistair punched him in the face, “And when I'm done with you, Dean, I'm going to go to your house and find that little angel of yours.” He slurred into Dean's hear, his lips hot and slimy against Dean's skin “And I'm going to clip his wings.” Dean rejoiced. He rejoiced in the fact that Cas was hundreds of miles away kissing other men instead of a few streets over. Still, anger rolled through him and he lashed out at Alistair again.   
“You will never fucking touch him again you fucker-” Dean whispered deadly as Alistair got over the blow Dean had dealt him and smacked him across the head with the butt of the gun. Pain washed over his head, his vision got blurry again. A knife flashed out into the night.   
“DEAN!” Cole's voice called him back. He was slumped in Cole's arms, his skin had broken out in a cold sweat. “Dean don't worry we're going to get you home . . . or maybe to a hospital . . . don't worry . . . just stay awake okay?”   
“Not a hospital. I'm fine. Just drunk. Home is good.” Dean slurred. He half walked and was half carried out of the bar by Cole.


	8. I Don't Love You

Castiel: 

Time started to pass quicker, thankfully to Castiel. He danced, he danced some more, he Meg, Claire and Balthazar still went out once in a while, but Castiel was notably more distant. He thought of calling Dean often, but every time he reached for the phone he realized he had no idea what to say. He got put in charge of group rehearsal one week, told to choreograph his own routine (he was ecstatic) and he decided to pick My Chemical Romance, a band Dean had introduced him to and was overly fond of. He wrote a routine where no one got a happy ending, where everyone was hurt. He paired the dancers up and had the routine start off romantic and sweet and then in each pair someone was lost, left, something to make the love not work out. It was dark, it was depressing, and it was danced in water, something new to Castiel and the dancers now in his charge. Some of them hated him for adding the extra challenge, some of them, like Claire and Michael, just smiled and worked harder. It was seven weeks into the competition now, only six dancers remained, Michael, Claire, Hael, Donna, Crowley, and Cain. Personally, Castiel was rooting for Claire, the youngest in the competition and by far one of the best. If anyone could rival her, it was Michael.   
During their rehearsals together, Michael was overly close, always offering Castiel water, or complementing him on some sort of artistic choice he had made. Castiel felt uncomfortable by it but just continued on, pretending not to notice so much. He figured if he ignored Michael's attempts at flirtation, they would go away. After all, it might not be flirtation. It might just be that because they had worked together before, Michael had warmed up to him somehow. One day after practice Michael came up to him, covered in water, his white shirt sticking to his skin and becoming transparent over his tight black leggings. He shook water out of his hair a little bit and smiled at Castiel, his eyes lighting up a little.   
“Hey Cas?” Castiel turned, not overly comfortable with the informal shortening of his name.   
“Yes, Michael?”   
“You can call me Mike.” Michael said, a charming half smile. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab dinner.” Castiel felt awkward. He felt trapped. Not many times in his life had he been cornered in this situation, if it was even that.   
“Umm . . . Michael,”   
“Mike.” He corrected, toweling off his hair.   
“Mike . . . I'm . . . I'm married.” Michael looked almost shocked.   
“Oh, Cas . . . I wasn't um . . . I mean don't get me wrong, you're a good kisser, but I just meant as friends.” Castiel felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders, he wouldn't have to reject anyone. He blushed profusely.   
“I'm sorry for assuming . . .”   
“I understand. So. Dinner?” Castiel looked at his phone, a habit which had become customary, checking to see if Dean had called or texted him again. He hadn't.   
“Sure. Dinner would be great.” Castiel said, smiling. 

Dean: 

It was as if every hour from now on would be measured in “hours since the attack”, Dean thought glumly. As if every bit of his life from here on out would be about that night. About that trauma. He glanced at the clock. Four weeks since. His ribs still felt sore all the time, but less so. He was trying to wean himself off the pain killers, but it was difficult. The alcohol he did not attempt to wean off of. It was the only time he hallucinated Cas. Most of the time it was just for an instant, but he would see blue eyes outside the window, a soft smile on the other side of the bed, and for just a brief moment he could forget the travesty that was his marriage, the wreckage that was his body, and the jagged pieces that were his life. He still hadn't been able to go back to work. He kept saying it was because his ribs hadn't healed, and what happened last time he had tried to dance without his ribs healed had been overly painful. He figured he could slowly work his way back into it, and then go back to work when he was 100% again. If he ever got there.   
Cole kept coming around, despite the fact that Dean wasn't any fun to be around and was absolutely no help with the paperwork for angel studios. In fact, all mention of Cas had been banned from conversation. Dean couldn't stand to talk about him anymore, couldn't hear the name “Cas” out loud without longing filling up his being and making him want to curl up and cry. He still watched the show alone, he couldn't help it. He got to see Cas dancing with a new, beautiful partner to a new, beautiful routine. It had been announced last week that Cas was choreographing instead of dancing this week. Dean was awash with constant pain, but he couldn't help but be happy for his husband. Cas had gotten good at choreographing, as one does when they own their own dance studio. Some of the pieces he'd put together were as stunning as the man himself.   
Dean started to find it hard to be in the house. Some days he never wanted to leave the bed, but then he'd roll over, see Cas's side, empty, see his things, pictures of him, and he'd get up and leave. He felt like he was living in the hallowed out corpse of their relationship, and it just threw the ruins of it in his face even more. He had started going on long walks throughout the town, trying to get away from himself a little bit. He'd grab a beer or five at the bar, walk around some, and stumble into the prison that was his home. He had started frequenting high up places. He didn't know what caused it, maybe the thought of Cas and how he was an angel and since he was an angel, he would probably be found high above the city. Maybe it was because he and Cas had once had a date up there.   
Dean had surprised Cas, forced him to climb the rusty latter all the way to the roof, pulled the blanket out of the picnic basket he had carried, and poured Cas a glass of wine. Cas had smiled and called him a silly romantic as they lay on their backs and watched the stars, Cas had laid against Dean, resting his warm head on Dean's chest, and letting Dean wrap his arms around him.   
Now Dean would climb up to the roof of the old Hilton hotel and sit, his legs swinging over the edge and a beer in his hand. Sometimes, he would catch glimpses of Cas up there, when he'd had enough beer. Plus the wind felt nice, the rush felt nice. It made him feel alive at a point where he felt like he was starting to die.   
Dean watched Cas's routine that week, the one he had put together himself. It was set to a song Dean had shown him from one of Dean's favorite bands, My Chemical Romance. As soon as the routine started up, he knew the song. I Don't Love You. Dean watched as the couples were flinging each other across the stage in a few inches of water, something he could only imagine took much practice and skill to move in. The movements were beautiful and painful and each one etched in crystallized drops of water flying across the stage. The main couple Cas had seemed to focus on, Claire and Michael, broke up because of an argument. All of their movements were distancing, they weren't clicking, and it wasn't because of the dancers, it was because of the choreography. They were supposed to feel distant from each other. Dean sipped at his beer, watching the screen with his stomach in knots.   
When you go,  
would you even turn to say   
“I don't love you   
like I did   
yesterday”  
Dean knew what the dance was about, and he waited until it was over to turn the TV off, drink the rest of his beer, and then get up and leave the house. He heard ringing in his ears as he walked down the street, deciding he'd walk over to Angel Dance Studio. He knew the song was about him and Cas. He knew that Michael and Claire symbolized him and his husband, if they were even husbands anymore. He supposed on paper they still were. Dean shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from the cold, and glanced up at the moon. It sat, large on the skyline, it was a pink crescent, like a giant rose petal. Dean sighed and walked on, trying to run away from the pain that welled up inside his chest. He didn't know why he was going to the studio at this hour, or at all really, but he felt like some sort of force was drawing him there. 

Castiel: 

The routine went perfectly, the audience and the judges went wild, the dancers were fantastic, and there was only one misstep in the entire routine which they covered up so perfectly no one knew it had happened. Hael had slipped on the water at one point, but she had made it look like it was on purpose. The entire thing had been truly breathtaking, and Castiel was sure it was just because he was biased, but he felt like it was the best routine of the season. Afterward Michael came up to him with a wide grin and clapped him on the back.   
“That was great, Michae- Mike!” Castiel told him, smiling warmly. “You all did fantastic. It was incredible!” Michael shook the water out of his hair.   
“Thanks, Cas! We obviously couldn't have done it without you though, you're the real star!” Castiel tried not to blush. “We still on for dinner after the show?” Michael asked him casually.   
“Sure thing! I'll just wait around here for you to get changed, you probably don't want to wear your Bollywood costume to dinner.” Castiel responded, thinking of Michael's extreme costume for the routine he was to preform next. It included a purple turban and excessive amounts of jewelry.   
“Not unless we're getting Indian food and even then . . . I should probably change,” Michael said, jokingly. “ See ya then.” Michael clapped him on the arm and brushed past him. Claire ran up next and launched herself into Castiel's arms, probably more in an attempt to get Castiel wet than to actually show affection. She reached up and mussed his hair.   
“Congrats, the routine went great!” She said, straightening his tie for him. It always seemed to be backwards, somehow.   
“Thanks, you all danced brilliantly.” He said, glancing at his phone screen. Claire sighed.   
“Just text him, stupid.” Castiel's eyes snapped up.   
“I don't know what you're talking about.”   
“I'm talking about your husband, the one you love.”   
“I'm not sure-,”   
“That routine was about him, wasn't it?” Claire asked, her questions evasive and prying in the most blunt fashion possible.   
“Umm . . .”   
“It was so clear Mike and I were you and Dean. I could tell just from our back story.” Claire looked at him sadly. “You do love him though, don't you?” Claire asked, her eyes large. Castiel stammered uncomfortably, shoving his phone in his pocket.   
“I . . . I just don't know anymore, Claire.” Claire bit her lip and nodded, then put a hand on his arm.   
“You'll figure it out, unicorn.”   
“Oh not you too!” Castiel glared, thinking of how he could get revenge on Meg later. Maybe he'd put baby powder in her hair dryer or something. Clair leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.   
“I have to go get ready for my routine.” She told him. He hugged her.   
“Break a leg.”   
“Hopefully not!” She flounced off. Michael passed by again, already halfway in his Bollywood costume, he eyed Castiel oddly and then smiled and walked away. Castiel wondered how much of their conversation Michael had heard. Castiel sighed and decided to go find a place to sit while he waited for the show to be over. 

Dean: 

Dean wondered into the dance studio, tucking his keys back in his pocket. It was dark, and his feet echoed loudly on the polished wood floors. He remembered when Cas had bought it. It looked like an old warehouse or something, it had been disgusting, covered in trash and crawling with rats. Dean and Cas had cleaned it up together and redecorated it. Dean made his way over to the large studio room, the wall of mirrors showing him how crappy he looked. His hair stuck up funny, his clothes were rumpled, his eyes had sunken into his skull and his worry lines looked deeper. He clenched his fists. It had been five weeks since . . . He should be able to dance. He should at least try. He took a deep breath, stretching his lungs. He went over to where the stereo system was, plugged in his phone, and played the song that was haunting him.   
I Don't Love You came pouring through the speakers. Dean shed his flannel and went over to the middle of the floor, looking up at his own despairing eyes in the mirror. He thought of Cas, of his beautiful smile, of holding Cas in his arms, and the movements started coming to him. It was odd, he normally danced hip hop, but now he felt himself bleeding into movements like the ones Cas would likely make if he were there. He found himself dancing, predicting every one of Cas's possible steps. 

And after all this time that you still owe  
You're still the good-for-nothing I don't know  
So take your gloves and get out  
Better get out  
While you can 

Cas's words echoed through his mind. “Maybe we should just take a break.” The words felt as if they were cracking him. He spun quickly, frustration and anger radiating through his movements. His ribs hurt but he kept going, they were a dull sort of pain, he could push through it. He felt his eyes stinging with tears but he pushed through that pain as well.   
When you go  
Would you have the guts to say  
I don't love you   
like I did   
yesterday   
Dean slipped and fell to the ground hard, landing on his left,the side with the injured ribs. He gasped out in pain as his lungs temporarily forgot how to work. He lay on the floor, tears streaming down his face, the song stopped and the only sound in the room was his labored breathing. He wondered if he could even get back up, if getting back up was even worth it. Footsteps echoed.   
“Dean? You okay man?” Dean turned his head towards the door and saw Cole walking towards him.   
“Why . . . why are you here?” Dean gasped, trying to breathe. Cole got to him and helped him sit up.   
“I was here late doing paperwork, watching the show in Cas's office.” Dean nodded.   
“Sorry I haven't been more help with that. . .You must be working a crapton.”   
“It's all good, I know you have your reasons.” Cole glanced over at his ipod.   
“Do you really feel . . . like that?” Cole asked, gesturing towards the ipod. Dean wiped at his face with the back of his hand, realizing tears were still streaming down his cheeks.   
“Like what?” He asked, gruffly, trying to play off the tears.   
“Like . . . you don't love him?” Dean stood up with Cole's help and brushed himself off, picking up his jacket and his ipod.   
“I don't feel that way. But he does. He just told that to everyone on national TV.” Dean started to walk out of the studio.   
“He still loves you, Dean.” Cole called after him.   
“You don't know him like I do.” Dean responded quietly, leaving the studio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That has y'all all caught up with the SYTYCD verse! I'll be updating AO3 and Fanfiction as soon as I have a new chapter, as always thanks for reading and thanks for the support!


	9. Stars

Castiel: 

After the show, Castiel waited around for Michael to be done changing. He fiddled with his phone some more, waiting for messages that never came. He wondered if Dean had seen the show, and if so, what he thought of it. Castiel grimaced. He knew what Dean would think of it. He'd think Castiel was telling Dean he didn't love him. Which wasn't strictly untrue. The entire routine had been about Castiel's conflicting feelings towards his husband at the moment. He wondered if it was a good idea to put that kind of dance out there, but he had always believed in dancing with passion, with emotion. Right now all of his emotion was centered around this unbelievable wave of uncertainty he felt about his relationship, so if that's what he felt, that's what he should focus on, right? It seemed to have paid off. The routine was pretty good, after all.   
Michael came up, a tight white button down that showed off his muscles and tight blue jeans that showed off his legs . . . and other . . . assets. Not that Castiel noticed. He didn't look like he'd just been dancing for thousands of people, he looked like he had just stepped out of a magazine ad for obscenely hot men. Castiel realized he was staring and broke it off with a feeble attempt not to blush. Did he find Michael attractive? He was always one to recognize human beauty, and Michael was certainly beautiful . . . he supposed the correct question would be, was he attracted to Michael? Castiel was almost positive the answer was no. Almost.   
“Okay, Cas, where to?” Michael asked, politely not noticing his blush.   
“Um . . . I don't really care, wherever you want is fine with me.” Castiel stood up off his chair and followed Michael out of the studio. Photographers snapped pictures of them together and Michael looked at Cas's face that was squinting in discomfort and laughed, taking his hand and leading him away from the paparazzi quickly. Castiel didn't even want to think about how those pictures looked. In fact, he didn't want to think about much of anything. “How about we go to a bar? Somewhere with alcohol?” Castiel asked, Michael nodded, saying he knew a good place with pizza and beer.   
“You like pizza, right?” Michael asked him once they were in the taxi.   
“I enjoy pizza immensely.” Castiel answered seriously, trying to ignore the way Michael's leg was pressed up against his in the backseat, even though there was still plenty of room. Michael laughed and gave the driver directions. They ended up at a nice establishment with a quiet roof they could eat on that had a nice view of the city. Castiel carried the beer and Michael carried the pizza up the stairs, and they settled at a little plastic table close to the edge. Castiel looked out over the city, lights sparkling across the strip. He sighed. Lawrence Kansas was beautiful, but it had nothing on Vegas.   
“How'd you know about this place?” Castiel asked him, biting into one of the best pieces of pizza he'd ever eaten.   
“I'm actually from Vegas. This was always one of my favorite little spots.” Michael answered, taking a sip of beer.   
“I had no idea! That's so cool!” Michael shrugged.   
“You get used to it. The strip isn't that cool when you live here. It's like . . . living in Disneyland. The magic kind of fades once you've been here so long.” Castiel glanced out over the city again, a soft, warm breeze caressing his skin.   
“I'm not sure I could get used to it.” He mumbled. “It's too beautiful.” Michael shrugged.   
“Well. If you think it's that beautiful, why leave?” Castiel nibbled on his pizza.   
“Dean is from Lawrence.”   
“So why should you give up what you want for him? Where are you from?” Castiel shook his head.   
“Because I didn't want anything. I wanted Dean. I . . . I was kind of . . . dislocated from my home. I moved to Austin and I loved the city but I had no . . . personal ties to it. When Dean wanted to move back to Kansas because of his family . . . well . . . Dean was the only personal tie I ever had. Of course I had to go with him.” Michael glanced at him quizzically. “What?” Castiel asked, feeling awkward.   
“There was a lot of past tense in that statement.” Castiel looked down at his plate, picking at the pizza crust and shredding it into bits. “Trouble in paradise?”   
“I'd really . . . rather not talk about it.”   
“I feel like you already did. I Don't Love You . . . sends a kind of clear message.” Castiel folded his hands in his lap.   
“Why do you care anyway?” The question came out harsher than he'd meant it to, he hadn't meant to sound so . . . so angry. Michael didn't look phased.   
“I'm just curious. Hey, how about after this we go out dancing? I haven't been dancing for fun in ages! Let's celebrate the amazing routine you put together! We can get more drinks, have a good time?” Castiel instantly felt this was a bad idea. He drank more of his beer.   
“I don't know Michael . . .”  
“Mike,” He corrected, “C'mon Cas . . . you could use some fun!” Castiel felt trapped. He supposed he could easily say no . . . but something about Michael seemed oddly insistent.   
“I guess I could text Meg and Balthazar . . . they'd probably meet us there. . .” Castiel didn't know why he said it, he supposed he just wanted this to feel like less of a date.   
“Nah, they're probably already asleep, it's getting late.” Michael said casually. Castiel bit his lip.   
“Well . . .”   
“C'mon, just you and me and the dance floor!” Castiel didn't know why the next word fumbled out of his mouth, and the moment it was out he wished he could take it back.   
“Alright.” They threw away their plates and empty bottles and headed off the roof.   
They walked into a hazy bar, it was one Castiel had never been to before. The room was blue lit and there was a giant dance floor in the middle with bodies pulsating to some hip hop music Castiel didn't know, but he was sure Dean would. Dean. At the thought of his husbands name, guilt washed over him.   
Michael made a b-line for the bar and ordered them shots of what Castiel assumed was Tequila and then some sort of strong drink with what Castiel suspected to be Whiskey and soda, but he wasn't sure. The music was so loud he couldn't hear anything. He looked around them. Not many people were at the bars, most everyone was on the dance floor. A few outliers slunk around, looking like predators. The girls all wore too-tight dresses that could've passed as shirts and the boys all wore large, idiotic grins. It wasn't Castiel's regular scene.   
He downed his drink at Michael's insistence and then allowed Michael to lead him onto the dance floor. A song with a lot of cuss words came on and Castiel did his best to move to the beat without judging the lyrics too harshly. Michael smiled at him and moved along with the song as if he was born doing it. Castiel knew how to dance to hip hop, but it was more difficult when Dean wasn't around. It was like Dean was Castiel's buffer, he stopped Castiel from caring what the rest of the world thought. Here, Castiel felt as if all eyes were on him and he shuffled around nervously.   
“What, you don't know how to twerk, Cas?!” Michael screamed over the music. Castiel looked around and realized the song had changed, and the girls were bent in half with their butts shaking in boy's crotches. Castiel was appalled.   
“How is this a dance move?!” He shouted back, trying not to look too disgusted. Michael laughed and pulled him off the floor for more drinks. By the time they got back Castiel felt looser, like he could dance more easily, and the awful twerking song was over. Now it was a song about shopping? Castiel was confused. He wasn't in his genre at all. He finally shrugged and danced along to the beat. Michael smiled at him and moved closer. Castiel assumed it was because someone was pushing him from the other side, the dance floor was packed after all. Castiel continued dancing right up until Michael invaded his space way too far for Castiel to think it was an accident. Michael rolled his body against Castiel's and Cas had to fight the wave of repulsion that ran over his skin like thousands of tiny spiders. He tried to smile easily and back up, but Michael pursued him. Castiel held his hands up in front of his chest.   
“Umm . . . Michael . . .”   
“Shh just dance with me Cas!” Michael shouted over the music again. He pulled Castiel in front of him by Castiel's hip and spun Castiel around and started to grind on him. Castiel was sure this qualified as dance rape. He spun around quickly and took a few steps away from Michael. Michael's face looked annoyed. “I'm just trying to dance with you Cas!”   
“I'm sorry . . . I'm . . . uncomfortable with that kind of dancing . . .”   
“Cas, look around, we're at a club. Everyone is dancing like that! Don't be such a prude!” Castiel did notice that most of the people looked like they were fornicating on the floor, but that didn't mean he was going to.   
“Michael, I'm sorry I think . . . I think I should go . . .” Castiel started to retreat. He didn't notice Michael had followed him outside until a hand clamped down on his shoulder. Castiel turned to face him.   
“Cas don't be such a bitch! I wasn't trying to-,” Castiel attempted a smile, but was afraid he looked constipated.   
“Michael it's fine . . . I just . . . was uncomfortable.”   
“Well if you don't wanna dance . . .” Michael leaned forward and kissed Castiel, pinning him up against the wall of the bar. Castiel shoved Michael away instantly.   
“WHAT MAKES YOU THINK IF I WAS UNCOMFORTABLE DANCING WITH YOU THAT I WOULD WANT TO KISS YOU?!” Castiel screamed. Michael looked astonished. Somewhere in the distance Castiel heard cameras clicking.  
“I thought-,”   
“What could you have possibly thought, Michael? That it wouldn't matter that I'm married?”   
“I thought you didn't love him!” Michael accused, glaring at Castiel.   
“I never said that! I love Dean! I love him with everything that I am!” Castiel shouted back, realizing the words were true as he spoke them. He did love Dean. What was he doing here? This whole thing was stupid. Castiel started to walk away, attempting to hail a taxi, when he heard Michael call out after him,   
“You're going to get sick of fucking him, Castiel, and when you do, you know where to find me!” Castiel spun on his heel and punched Michael in the jaw without thinking twice about it. Michael fell to the ground and Castiel glowered over him.   
“I will never get tired of anything to do with Dean.” Castiel started to walk away for real this time, but turned back on a whim “especially fucking him.” Castiel left Michael there, hailed a taxi, and went back to his hotel. Everything had been awful, the feel of Michael on him, the kiss . . . Castiel longed for Dean. He wished he could see Dean right now. He wished he could talk to Dean. He took out his cellphone and looked down at it. Now was not a good time. He'd had alcohol in his system, a lot of alcohol. And last time he had called Dean when he was drunk . . . well, Castiel didn't want to get into another fight with his husband. He wanted to fix things, not make them worse.   
He smiled to himself as he looked out the window at the brightly colored Vegas strip. Tonight had been good for one thing. The entire night had made him realize how stupid he was being. As soon as this competition was over, Castiel was going to go home, and he was going to make things right with Dean. 

Dean: 

Dean stopped looking at his phone. He stopped answering his phone. Or the door, when Cole or Sammy came knocking. He kept his house locked at all times. One time Sammy sat outside, knocking for hours, he started screaming about breaking a window or something, and Dean finally screamed back for Sammy to leave him alone, that he was still alive but just wanted his space. Sammy left. Cole got the hint after a while and stopped showing up. Dean's nightly escapades started earlier and ended later. He almost always found himself on the roof of the hotel, staring up at the sky with a drink in his hand. He wasn't sure how long it had been since he actually talked to someone, but he wasn't sure that he much cared. He missed Cas.   
One night he was buying some beers at a local store when he glanced over at the tabloids and saw Cas there, kissing that Michael dude. Bile rose in Dean's throat. The caption said “I never said that I love Dean' Castiel Winchester (?) shouted last Wednesday night outside a bar seconds after kissing heartthrob Michael Smith. Are Dean and Castiel over? What does this mean for the new couple? Page 67” Dean felt like his world was coming to an end. So this was it then. His relationship was over and he had to find out on the cover of a tabloid. The cashier looked at him sadly, realizing who he was.   
“Hey . . . those things lie most of the time anyway . . . I'm sure that's not . . .”   
“I don't want to talk about it.” Dean groaned, grabbing his beer and leaving. A song was pouring through the speakers on his way out, and Dean caught a few of the words.   
I lit a fire with the love you left behind  
and it burned wild and crept up the mountainside   
followed you ashes into outer space  
I can't look out the window   
I can't look at this place  
Dean stopped for a moment and looked up at the speaker in the ceiling, thinking about how the words fit his life so brilliantly. He considered typing out the lyrics on his phone so that he could look up the song and dance to it later. Then he realized he didn't want to dance. Maybe ever again. He realized his ribs had fully healed, and he still hadn't called into work, and he couldn't find it in himself to care.   
I can't look at the stars   
they make me wonder where you are  
I can't look at the stars   
up on heaven's boulevard   
If I know you at all   
I know you've gone too far   
So I, I can't look at the stars   
Dean slumped his shoulders forward and walked out of the store, making for the roof of the hotel. Everything was falling apart. His relationship, his life, his passions. Everything was broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song was called Stars by Grace Potter and the Nocturnals and I am so happy that I got to use it because that's actually the song that inspired part two of this fanfiction! I hope y'all enjoyed that chapter! There are going to be three more and then part two is over! I am considering writing some one shots in the SYTYCD verse though, if you have anything you'd like to read, let me know! Also no shame to the girls that CAN actually twerk, I'm just not one of them and have never been fond of the whole “sex on the dance floor” thing. Probably because I dance like a dork, but hey if you have fun doing it, that's what matters.


	10. Dearly Departed

Dean: 

If someone asked Dean what day of the week it was, he probably wouldn't be able to tell them. If someone asked Dean what month it was . . . well he didn't know. Everything was passed in an alcohol drenched haze. He knew his ribs didn't hurt anymore, and that this season of So You Think You Can Dance was nearing an end. He knew that it was getting really hot outside . . . or maybe that was just him. He hardly went outside during the day anyway. Dean still wore his wedding ring, he couldn't bring himself to take it off. He stared down at it all the time, seeing Cas kissing Michael in it's shiny surface. He wanted to hate Cas for what he had done, but he couldn't find it in himself to hate Cas. After all, this was probably all his fault. He was the one that had gone and gotten himself attacked. He was the one that had moped about it, probably gone about the recovery process all wrong. He was the one that had pushed Cas away as a coping mechanism. It was no wonder Cas was kissing Mr. Chiseled Chest. Cas deserved to be happy. Dean didn't want the show to be over. He didn't want Cas to come home and have to tell Dean he was leaving once and for all. Dean wanted to live just a little bit longer in the denial, in the safe hallucination that Cas would come back and everything would be the same. That nothing had changed.   
There was a knock on the door and Dean glared up at it. Sammy and Cole had both stopped trying to get to Dean for what seemed like a while now, but this knock was different. Louder, ruder somehow.   
“DEAN WINCHESTER YOU OPEN UP THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW!” It was Cole. Dean didn't know what possessed him to do it, but he got up off his couch and opened the door.   
“What?” He hissed, blinking in the sunlight. He ignored Cole's sharp intake of breath at his appearance.   
“Dean let me in, man.” When Dean didn't move to let him past, Cole shoved his way through. Dean shut the door behind him, wishing he hadn't opened it in the first place. “How long has it been since you ate anything?” Cole asked, gesturing to Dean's body. Dean looked down at his emaciated form.   
“Umm . . . I had an egg or something.”   
“When?” Cole asked, disbelieving. Dean shrugged.   
“I don't know.” Cole was giving Dean his best “worried eyes” as Dean had come to call them in his head.   
“Take a shower, put on some clothes, and let me take you to lunch.” Cole demanded, starting to clean up beer bottles from around the living room.   
“I don't want to.” Dean said, standing with his arms crossed over the ratty tee shirt he'd been wearing for probably far too long.   
“I don't care.” Cole said, his eyes deadly serious. Dean sighed and decided he didn't have the energy for a fight. He shuffled into his and Cas's bedroom. The bed was all made up, he hadn't slept in there for what seemed like weeks now. Everything was pristine in this one room, the rest of the house was a wreck. Dean shed his clothes and got into the shower, thinking angry thoughts about Cole the entire time. Stupid dumb ass dance instructor thinking he could order Dean around. Who the hell did he think he was? Dean pulled on clothes and shuffled back out into the living room to see Cole had picked up a significant amount and it almost looked normal in the room again.   
“You didn't have to do that.” Dean grumbled.   
“You ready to go?” Cole asked, too cheerfully.   
“No.” Dean answered. Somewhere in his mind he knew he was acting like a three year old. He didn't care.   
“Great, let's get goin'. I figured that burger place downtown. The one with the outside seating. You look like you could use some sun.” Cole said, glancing over at Dean whose skin actually looked gray.   
“Whatever.” Cole escorted him out of the house and into his van, driving them to the restaurant. Only when Cole had forced Dean to eat a burger and Dean ate it just to shut Cole up did Cole finally address what he had really brought him there for.   
“You've got to stop this man.” Cole said, looking up at Dean with the worried eyes again. “You can't keep living like this. The alcohol . . . and it's been weeks since you showed up for work. Your ribs are fully healed now, they have to be. You have no excuse for not going, you love your job!”   
“Cole I don't want to talk about this.”   
“I know what's going on must be hard for you, the . . . attack . . . and the whole thing with Cas. But have you even called him? Have you even tried? I'm sure if you both just put a little bit of effort into your relationship-,”   
“COLE. I do not. Want. To. Talk about this.” Dean answered, gritting his teeth. Cole pressed on, regardless.   
“And the whole wondering the town at night thing . . . it's weird man. You need to pull yourself together. We've all let this go on long enough, I thought at first, sure, he needs his time to grieve and get over it or somethin', but it's been months and nothing's changed! You've just gotten worse! You're not eating, all you do is drink, you don't clean up after yourself, your skin is gray, your hair is dull, you look like you've aged ten years!”   
“COLE SHUT THE HELL UP!” Dean stood abruptly from the table, he pulled out his wallet, threw down a twenty, told Cole “Thanks for lunch!” And then started to walk away, ignoring the startled faces around him. He should've known the moron would follow him.   
“Dean I'm trying to help you!” Cole called after him, catching up to him easily.  
“Yeah, well stop trying!”   
“I know things have been hard since you were raped-,” Cole started, something snapped in Dean and he grabbed Cole by his shirtfront and shoved him up against a building nearby.   
“Cole,” Dean whispered, deadly quiet. “I told you to shut. The hell. up.” Dean was in his face now, and he didn't have any control over what he was doing. He wanted to beat the hell out of Cole, but part of him realized that'd be a bad idea, that he shouldn't do that. That part of him was silenced when Cole said,   
“Is that what this is about? You can't come to terms with the fact that you were raped?” Dean punched Cole in the face, knocking him to the ground, then he sat on Cole's chest, holding him down while he punched him again and again, not caring when blood started pouring from Cole's nose, not caring when his cheek was effectively split open, he just didn't give a damn. If this was what it took for Cole to leave him alone . . . well then . . . so be it. A hand grabbed his fist and yanked him off Cole, a voice broke through his rage.   
“DEAN STOP! DEAN!” His brother Sammy was holding him against his chest, stopping his flailing arms. “It's over Dean, it's over.” Sam held him until he was completely still, then he went to Cole, checking if he was alright. Dean saw the aftermath of Cole's face, his lip was split, his left eye was swollen shut, and he had a cut on his right cheek with a bruise already blossoming across his skin. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” Sam asked. Cole spat blood out on the sidewalk.   
“I'm fine. I'm just going to go home and sleep it off.”   
“You sure? How are your teeth?” Sam's hands fluttered over Cole, checking for injuries.   
“I'm good, Sam. I probably deserved it.” Cole stood up, straightening his jacket, and wiping more blood off his face.   
“You good to drive or-,” Sam started, Cole attempted a smile, which apparently hurt so he stopped.   
“I'm fine, Sam. I'll see you guys around, okay?” Sam nodded, his head down. Cole walked off and Sam turned to Dean.   
“Let's get you home, idiot.” Sam said, Dean figured he probably deserved that. 

Sam: 

Dean was quiet the entire drive home while Sam ranted about how dare he beat up the one person who was trying to help them and what the fuck had gotten into him and was this about Cas? At that question Dean turned to face the window. Sam sighed and got Dean inside, gave him an Advil, washed his hands of Cole's blood, and then put ice on his knuckles and sent him off to bed. Dean refused to sleep in his room. In their room. He couldn't. Sam raised his eyebrows but pulled the blanket over Dean when he settled down on the couch. Sam turned to leave and a bruised hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.   
“Stay. Please.” Sam nodded and sat down on the couch next to his brother, rubbing his back soothingly. He almost didn't notice when Dean started to cry, he just felt Dean begin to shake. When he did notice he was beyond himself. Dean was always the one holding him while he cried. He didn't know how to react to this situation.   
“Do you want to . . . talk about it?” Sam asked. Dean was sobbing in earnest now. In between sobs he got out the words,   
“Cas . . . Cas doesn't love me anymore . . . kissed another guy . . . I fucked up, Sammy . . . I love him so much . . . I just . . . I fucked up . . .” Sam had seen the tabloids, had known that Dean and Cas weren't on the best of terms right now. But the fact that it was ruining Dean's life to this degree . . . Sam knew he had to do something, he just didn't know what. Sam held Dean until he fell asleep, and then quietly he got up and went outside, pulling out his phone and dialing Cas's number. 

Castiel: 

Only one more week, and this stupid contest was over. One more week and Castiel could go home and fix things with his husband. They were working on a routine for Sonya to the song Dearly Departed by the Shakey Graves. In the routine Castiel and Donna were dressed up as ghosts haunting each other. Cain and Hael had both been eliminated last week and the remaining contestants were Donna, Claire, Michael, and Crowley. Castiel was still rooting for Claire. This was the last routine he had to do and then Castiel was free of this show, hopefully forever. He was having fun with it though, to say the least. Donna made for an exciting dance partner. She was funny and quirky and sweet. Castiel was glad this routine would showcase her personality as well as her ability.   
“What do you mean, 'there's no such thing as a doughnut break?!” Donna asked Sonya during rehearsal. Castiel was laughing when his phone rang. He excused himself and ran across the studio to where his gym bag was, praying it would be Dean. It wasn't, it was Sam. Castiel answered immediately.   
“Sam?” Castiel asked.   
“Hey, Cas. You got a moment?” Castiel looked at Sonya and mouthed I have to take this! And then jogged into the hallway.   
“Yes. What's happening?” Castiel inquired.   
“It's Dean . . . he uh . . . he isn't taking this whole thing very well . . .”   
“I know, Sam, I figured as much, I'm going to finish up the competition here and then be on the first flight back to fix everything with him-,”   
“I don't think you understand. He um . . . he saw the tabloids . . .” Castiel tilted his head to one side in confusion.   
“What tabloids?”   
“Well there's this tabloid with you kissing Michael and I believe it says something along the lines of 'I never said that I love Dean Winchester' and then goes on to talk about how you're cheating on my brother and how Dean is standing in the way of the 'new couple.” Sam didn't attempt to hide the disdain for Cas in his voice. Castiel cringed, rubbing his forehead.   
“Oh no. They took everything so far out of context . . . Sam nothing happened between Michael and I.”   
“Cas there's a picture of you two kissing. Unless that's a really good photo-shop . . .”   
“Michael was trying to press himself on me and I pushed him away and punched him in the face. What I said was 'I never said that! I love Dean Winchester!' and . . . well you know how tabloids are . . . Michael and I aren't a couple . . . at all. I love your brother, I swear!” There was a pause on the other end of the line.   
“I'm not saying I believe you, but I'll give that theory a chance.”   
“That's all I ask.”   
“Were you two fighting before this?” Sam asked.   
“Well . . . yes . . . but I am- the whole thing with Michael it made me realize how important your brother is to me, and I fully intend on fixing our relationship through whatever means necessary as soon as the competition is over next week.”   
“Cas I'm just not sure he has a week.” Castiel felt his breath stop.   
“What do you mean? How bad is he?”   
“Looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks, he's been living off a liquid diet of alcohol, he has called into work and hasn't shown up for god knows how long, he hasn't talked to anyone, or practically left the house in weeks . . . He won't sleep in the bedroom . . . He just beat the shit out of Cole and then collapsed in my arms, crying, which has never happened before. The crying part, not the beating up people part . . . I don't know man, I'm worried about him. Really really worried.” Castiel felt his stomach drop.   
“I'll be there as soon as I can, Sam, but I signed a contract . . . I can't leave until after the show next week, and then I swear I'll be on the first flight out.”   
“ . . . Okay, Cas.”   
“Please watch out for him for me . . . I know you would anyway, you're his brother but . . .” Castiel was trying not to cry.   
“I'll do the best I can. He wouldn't let me in for weeks . . . If he pushes me away again, which I suspect he will as soon as he wakes up, there's not much I can do.”   
“I know . . . I know.” Castiel whispered.   
“I hope he can last a week.”   
“So do I.” The line went dead and Castiel realized this would be the longest week of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the way, Dearly Departed by Shakey Graves is an amazing song, and an amazing music video! You should check it out!


	11. Move Along

Chapter Eleven: Move Along 

Finally, the night of the season finale was upon them. Just a night filled with back to back routines, and then the final results show tomorrow and he was free. Castiel tried to help Claire channel her nerves, tried to help Donna fix her dress, tried to help Crowley get into character, tried to help everyone he could (except Michael, of course). Meg and Balthazar were right alongside him, babying them all with him. That's what this competition had turned them into, babysitters. They felt personally responsible for how tonight went, even though it had very little to do with them. The entire week had been the week from hell.   
Castiel had wanted to call or text Dean a million times, but he'd known that Dean was fragile right now. The only way to say what he had to say and have Dean understand him was to say it to Dean's face. Castiel told Meg everything and she empathized with him, tried to help him calm down, even told him to consider leaving early, the show would understand and probably get someone to replace him. But as he taught Claire how to channel her breath, he realized why he couldn't leave. Dean wasn't an emergency (well . . . he wasn't dying, right?) But these dancers, this show, was his life. Sure, it was completely strenuous and he couldn't wait for it to be over so he'd never have to deal with it again, but this was a huge part of his passion and he felt that he needed to be there to see it through. Castiel pulled Claire aside.   
“You're going to do great, Claire.” He told her, putting a hand on her cheek. “Dance with passion, show them you deserve to win it, because you do.” Claire smiled up at Cas. At the beginning of this season she would've never let him touch her cheek, would've never allowed such soft words to be directed towards her. But now she hugged him.   
“Thank you, Cas. For everything. You've been like a father to me and I . . . I love you like one.” Cas kissed the top of her head.   
“I love you like a daughter Claire. I'm rooting for you, don't let them know. But I hope you win.” Claire brushed tears from her eyes and Castiel helped her fix her makeup. “Now go win that title!” He said as she was called to the stage for her routine. She turned back one time to smile at him, and he waved her away, grinning like an idiot. He really did love Claire. He got called to makeup for the finishing touches before his routine, which was to go on after Claire's. He sat in the chair when his phone rang. Castiel was going to ignore it, but the caller ID said “Cole” and something told Cas he needed to answer it.   
“Hey Cole, make it fast I'm about to go on.”   
“Cas- Cas you need to come now! I haven't been strictly speaking honest with you about everything-,”   
“Cole can it wait until after the show-?”   
“No. No it can't wait until tomorrow it can't wait two more minutes, Cas, I think Dean is gonna kill himself.” Everything stopped. 

Dean: 

After Dean woke up he told Sammy to leave and he went right back to how he was before. Cole had tried to come over a few times, but Dean didn't make the mistake of opening the door again. Sammy called him, even broke into his house one day to find Dean laying on the couch with his head between his knees and sobs racking his body. They tried getting him to see a doctor, he refused. He just wanted to be left alone. Visions of Cas were all but gone now. All of the visions were of Alistair. His bloody smile after Dean had punched him, his cold, calloused hands running along Dean's skin. Dean threw up multiple times just thinking about it. He would wake up in phantom pain and realize it was because his nightmares now all included images of Alistair. He refused to sleep at all after that, keeping himself awake at all costs.  
The show was on it's last week. Cas was going to come home soon and tell Dean he didn't want him anymore. Tell Dean what he already knew. Dean didn't think he could stand hearing those words from Cas's mouth. He couldn't even imagine Cas saying them. I don't love you.   
It was a Tuesday, the second before last night of the show. Dean decided he didn't want that conversation with Cas to happen. He decided he was going to grab some beer, lock up the house, and head on up to the roof. He was sitting there, drinking away his fear when his phone rang. Fucking Cole again. Dean sighed and decided to answer this time.   
“What, Cole?”   
“Dean I just wanted to see how you were doing- . . . why does it sound so windy?” Dean looked down at his feet swinging over the city.   
“I'm high up.”   
“How high up?! Dean! Don't do anything stupid!”   
“I'm not going to do anything stupid, Cole.” It wasn't stupid. It was smart. He was just making it easier for Cas. Not that he planned on telling Cole that. “Listen dude, thanks for being a good friend.”   
“Why does that sound like goodbye?” Cole asked, sounding panicked.   
“Stop being such a baby, I can't thank you every once in a while?” Dean asked, gruffly. He really didn't want to make a big deal out of this. He wanted to slip away alone, with no fuss over it.   
“Dean I-,”   
“I gotta go, Cole.” Dean answered quickly, hanging up the phone and dropping it off the building. He watched as it sailed to the deserted alleyway below him, shattering on the ground. He cringed a little bit. He wouldn't have done it, except he was sure Cole was smart enough to figure out something was up, and he really didn't want to be stopped. He didn't want much from tonight. He wanted it to be over, and he wanted one last thing. One last vision of Cas before he died. Pictures really didn't do him justice. Dean wanted to see him, in some messed up sort of way, before he gave up.   
He flipped through the mental images of Cas in his mind. He remembered when he'd first seen Cas, on stage in Austin. How the man had moved across the stage like some sort of liquid, how he knew from the start Cas was going to win. He remembered when Cas pinned him up against a wall after Dean had accidentally caused his foot to be injured and how Cas's eyes had gone from a soft blue to daggers in an instant. He remembered when Cas had gripped his shoulder in the hot tub that one night, how Dean's body had lit up like a Christmas tree and he felt so alive. He remembered kissing Cas, the slow kisses, the fast kisses, and every kiss in between. He remembered the sex. How he didn't feel like it was really sex. It felt like he was becoming more himself than he had ever been before. He remembered Cas winning So You Think You Can Dance and holding him in his arms as if he would fly away if he didn't hold him tight enough. He remembered how much he had loved Cas. And then he drank another beer, willing the memory of Cas to come to life, just one last time. 

Castiel: 

“YOU THINK WHAT?!” Castiel screamed into the phone, shoving the makeup people away from him. They tried to reign him back in but he gestured wildly to the phone “This is a emergency!” He cried out, hoping the panic in his eyes was enough for them to leave him alone.   
“You have two minutes!” one of them said quickly pulling the others away.   
“He got raped, Cas.”   
“WHAT?!”   
“The night you danced with Michael and you guys were fighting? He didn't hang up the phone, the phone got smashed out of his hand and Alistair sexually assaulted him and then I found him and took him to the hospital and tried to help him heal and it's just been getting worse-,”   
“Why didn't anyone tell me sooner?!” Castiel demanded, feeling like if Cole were in front of him right now, he would slap Cole across the face. Or worse.   
“Well I know I should've but Dean begged me not to say anything-,”   
“And Sam?!”   
“Sam didn't now. Only I knew. I'm sorry, Cas. I fucked up. But I just called him and he sounded bad. Worse. He said he was somewhere up high and . . . god I called the police, I called Sam, we're all searching everywhere but oh god. . . . Cas you need to get here now.”   
“Castiel we need to-,”   
“I quit.” Castiel told them. They just looked at him, baffled. “Tell them I'm very sorry, that it was a family emergency and I have to go.” No one believed him, so when he started to run to the exit, they started to follow him. “Cole, I'm on my way. I don't know where he would go . . . If I figure it out before I get on the plane, I'll let you know. I'm leaving now.”   
“Okay. I'll try to keep you posted.”   
“That would be greatly appreciated.” Castiel hung up the phone.   
“Cas, where are you going-,” Donna started to ask.   
“My husband is in grave danger and I have to leave. I'm so sorry Donna!” He called as he threw open the door and stumbled into the night air. Castiel realized he was dressed in a falling apart white shirt, muddled with paint and various makeup. He realized his pants were torn up and his face was painted white, along with his hair. He was still in his ghost costume. He didn't care. He had his wallet and some shoes, and that was all he needed. He sent a quick text to Meg explaining what was going on and asking her to be please bring the rest of his stuff back to Lawrence with her, that he'd pay for his luggage. He jumped into a taxicab and ordered the driver to get to the airport as fast as possible, and paid him fifty dollars extra to step on it.   
Castiel didn't start breathing again until he was on the flight, getting odd looks from everyone. He realized he hadn't been thinking about where Dean would go. He tried to think. He had no idea. He pictured Dean's smiling face in his mind and couldn't imagine Dean would ever want to kill himself. But he hadn't seen Dean in weeks . . . and the last time he had seen Dean had been before he had been sexually assaulted. If Castiel ever saw Alistair again, he'd kill him. His fists clenched at the thought of that . . . that creature touching the person he loved most in this world. He'd kill him nice and slow and wouldn't lose any sleep over it. Castiel felt like everything was moving in slow motion. The four hour plane ride was torture. His leg was constantly bouncing and his hands were shaking in his lap. He wanted to be in Kansas already. He needed to see his husband, and he needed to see him now. 

Dean: 

Dean had realized after the call that they would be looking for him. Soon, every tall building in Lawrence Kansas would be inspected for some psychopath rape victim attempting to jump off. He decided to pull his legs back over and sit on the ground, with his back to the ledge, at least until he got to see Cas again. He had drank an entire six pack and was working his way through the second. He was still flipping through memories of Cas, but the more he drank the more memories of Alistair slipped in. Glass cutting him. A brick wall's surface biting into his face. The barrel of a gun pressed to his skin. He was wondering if waiting for Cas would be worth it after all. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He couldn't tell how much time had passed, only that the moon was large and full in the sky and that he was slowly slipping away. He wished he could slip away faster and just get this over with. 

Castiel: 

Castiel drove with his hazards on. He had rented a car as fast as he possibly could. He sped trough Lawrence, getting into the city. As soon as he got off the plane he called Cole and Sam. They were working with the police and scouring the city frantically, but so far they hadn't found him. It wasn't until Castiel was signing the paperwork for the rental car that he realized where Dean might go. He called Cole immediately.   
“The Hilton. He could be on top of the Hilton Hotel.”   
“I'm about thirty minutes from there, but I'll head there now. I'll call Sam.”   
“I'm fifteen minutes from there.” Castiel told him.   
“Aren't you at the airport? That's like forty!”  
“Not if you drive like I'm planning to.” Castiel said as he shut the car door. He hung up on Cole and threw the phone in the front seat. The rental guy had given him some speech about not getting his makeup on anything, but Castiel didn't care. He'd managed to get most of his face makeup off in the bathroom of the plane, but there was still a thin white dust all over him. The song Move Along by The All American Rejects was playing over the radio and Castiel glanced at it, annoyed. What did they think he was trying to do? He was moving along, as fast as he possibly could! Castiel drove at double the speed limit, praying he wouldn't get pulled over. Not now. Not tonight. He got to the Hilton hotel in sixteen minutes, he parked the car haphazardly and bolted up to the roof. 

Dean: 

He decided he couldn't wait any longer. Dean downed the rest of the beer he was holding, he wasn't sure at that point how much he'd had. He guessed enough. But still no sign of Cas. Just like Cas to be late, he thought bitterly. Just like Cas not to be there for him. He stood up on the ledge, something he'd never done before. He felt himself wobble and wondered if he could've stood there without wobbling when he was sober.   
“I love you, Cas.” Dean whispered before he started to take another step-,  
“DEAN NO!” Dean was so shocked he started to wobble more, and begin to slip, when a warm hand grabbed his and yanked him back down. He fell into solid arms. He looked up into dark blue eyes.   
“Mmm Cas. I was hoping I'd get to see you again.” He said, hugging Cas one last time. “Okay . . . now let me go . . .” he ordered, ready to jump.   
“No Dean. God no. No I'm never letting you go again.” Cas was squeezing him for all he was worth and crying. Why was he crying? Dean pat his back, attempting to sooth him.   
“That's weird . . .” Dean slurred a little.   
“What's weird?” Castiel asked him.   
“Normally the visions don't . . . don't last so long.” Castiel's eyes widened   
“Dean I'm not a vision. I'm really here.” Dean stared at him, confused.   
“ . . . how . . . it's . . . it's Tuesday . . .”   
“I left early, Cole called me and told me everything. . . god Dean I'm so sorry I wasn't here for you I wish you had told me what happened I-,” It finally dawned on Dean everything that had happened. He had been about to kill himself and then his angel came. His angel really did show up to save him. It wasn't a vision, it was Castiel. Dean kissed him roughly, holding Cas's face in both of his shaky hands like he was afraid to let go.   
“Cas . . . I love you Cas. I love you and I can't lose you and I didn't want to hear you say you didn't love me.”   
“I do love you Dean! That stuff with Michael wasn't real, I swear!” Cas kissed him again. “I've only loved you. I will always love you. Let's get off this roof, get you sobered up, and talk about this.” Dean held onto Cas and begin to cry as well.   
“I'm so sorry, Cas.” Cas rubbed his back and kissed his cheek.   
“Shh . . . shh . . . I'm here now.” The sound of police sirens blew in the breeze, and shouts echoed up from below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! I'm half excited for it to be over and half sad. I've been working on SYTYCD 1 and 2 for so long now and I'm not sure I'll be able to let it go . . . Like I said before, I am planing on doing a small series of oneshots in the SYTYCD verse, so if you have anything you want to see, let me know!


	12. Love Don't Die

Dean: 

Cas squeezed his hand and smiled at him. For a few days after the rooftop Cas had tried to make Dean go to therapy, he had finally consented. They had been going together for four months now, and had been making great strides. Dean wasn't nearly as depressed anymore, he had come to terms with everything that had happened and with Cas's help had started to move on. Their relationship evolved into something deeper after that. Their communication skills were finally improved and Dean was close to the happiest he'd ever been, which was saying something. He was still left emotionally scarred from the attack, but on nights when he woke up screaming, warm arms wrapped around him and lulled him back to sleep. Sometimes his mind would wander off at the mention of certain words that triggered his memory, and Cas always knew where his mind was going, and was always able to draw him back.   
Today was the final day of Alistair's trial. Dean and Cas both had testified against him the previous day, bringing up thoughts Dean would rather not have thought about, but Cas was there for him.   
“Just look at me, Dean. Talk to me. Don't focus on he prosecutor or Alistair, just talk to me as if I were the one asking the questions.” Dean had nodded nervously. They had a very good case and Cas assured him he was positive they would win. Sam had come, and so had Cole, and Meg. They were all sitting next to Cas, giving Dean support. When they had first walked in the room, Cas's eyes had sought out Alistair's and Dean had been shocked at the amount of hatred he saw there. Cas's eyes went from his regular stunning dark blue orbs to daggers in seconds. He felt Cas's power surge up and his body tense. Dean squeezed Cas's hand.   
“Hey. He can't hurt us . . .” He told Cas. His husband softened and looked at him.   
“I'm not afraid he will hurt us. I'm pissed because he already has.” Dean nodded in understanding.   
“We can hurt him now. We can put him in jail for a very long time.” Cas sighed and looked down at their joined hands.   
“Not long enough.”   
Now it was the day of the sentencing. Cas and Dean were both incredibly tense and gripping each others hands like they both needed a life line.   
“We the jury find the defendant guilty of Rape and sexual battery.” A loud cheer went up over the court and Dean visibly relaxed. Cas was still on edge though. “We hereby sentence him to 199 months in jail.” Now Cas relaxed more, but his mouth was still pressed into a thin line. They left the court room, Sam hugging Dean and slapping him lightly on the back. Meg stepped up to Cas.   
“Hey unicorn, wanna tell us what's got you so down in the dumps? You just won a court case!”   
“It's just that . . . 199 months isn't life. He could come out in sixteen and a half years with more motive to hurt us than ever.”   
“Oh right, because I'm sure you won't be able to defend yourselves against a seventy year old creeper.” Dean saw Cas cast his eyes up towards her, eyes full of pain.   
“We might. But what about our family? Now if we want to have kids or if Sam wants to have kids . . . we'll always worry about that.” Dean wrapped his arms around Cas and held him until all of the tension drained from him.   
“We can move. We can move far away and he'll never find us again if that's what you want, angel.”   
“I just don't want us- I don't want you to have to be afraid anymore.” Dean kissed him gently on the lips.  
“I'm not afraid. I have you, I have my strength back.” Cas smiled at Dean and hugged him again until Sam coughed loudly, causing them to break apart, smiling.   
“So. Kids, huh?” Dean asked Cas, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Castiel: 

Dean and Cas stood in the wings of the stage, grinning at each other.  
“I can't believe it. I can't believe this is about to happen.” Dean jittered excitedly. Castiel raised his eyebrows at him.   
“Dean are you . . . are you actually nervous?” Castiel asked him incredulously.   
“Well I mean . . . a little . . . aren't you? Cas it was one thing dancing on the show, but now we're dancing at the Emmy's. Everyone who's anyone in TV is here tonight and they are all going to be watching.” Castiel nudged him with his elbow.   
“Just breathe.” He murmured softly.   
“If it wouldn't ruin our makeup I'd kiss you right now.” Dean said, flashing his fake fangs at Castiel.   
“Later, love.”   
“Positions!” Someone called. They got in place. After his choreography on the previous season of So You Think You Can Dance, Castiel had become even more famous than he had been before. Now, not only was he one of “America's Favorite Dancers” he was also one of America's favorite choreographers. The Emmy's had contacted them asking if both Dean and Castiel would preform at this year's awards show, and they'd both been blown away. It had taken Castiel what felt like forever to come up with his concept. The dance was about a vampire who's human lover had died, so the vampire took it upon himself to bring him back from the dead by turning him into one of the undead. Dean was playing the human. Love Don't Die by the Fray blasted out and filled the glittering arena, and the movements started to pour through Castiel's body.   
The dance started off with Dean and Castiel together, and then Dean shook suddenly and dropped to the ground. There was a few seconds of panic on Castiel's face and then he put his hand over Dean's body and Dean rose easily without using his hands or arms (that move had taken some time to iron out) and Castiel bit Dean's neck and then the music took off.   
Love don't die  
no matter where we go  
They flew across the stage. Cas had been sure to mix both of their dance styles in somewhat so that both of them got a chance to show off the best of their talents. It was an odd fusion of hip hop and contemporary but it somehow worked out. Castiel lifted Dean up in the air and spun him.  
A thousand years go by   
but love don't die  
They both dropped to the ground and started to break dance at an incredibly fast speed. Castiel loved how the song was about them. Those nine weeks had been straining on their relationship, and it had almost ended Dean's life, but they had prevailed. Together they had made it through. Their love wouldn't die.   
And even if they try  
they'll never take my body from your side  
The dance finished off with Castiel leaping into Dean's arms and kissing him, both of their fake fangs pressing up against each other in an awfully uncomfortable way they had both had to practice kissing in order to get used to. The arena burst into applause and they broke apart, grinning. Neil Patrick Harris came out on stage and congratulated them and then sent them off for the next award. Backstage they spit out their fake fangs, and smiled even bigger at each other.  
“You were amazing, Dean.” Dean was still trying to catch his breath, but he took Cas's hand.   
“You were even better.” When they could finally breathe enough they kissed, and when they pulled apart Dean squeezed Castiel's fingers. “I'm so proud of you.” He told him. Castiel sighed, completely in love with the man before him, how even in stage makeup and sweat he looked like a god. How Dean supported him so incredibly. How Dean completed him.   
“I'm proud of us. I couldn't have done it without you.”   
“You'll never have to.” Dean kissed Castiel again.

Dean: 

It was almost Christmas time now. Dean and Cas sat on their couch together in their home, the tree glistening in the corner, the fireplace crackling, and Cas's cozy sweater pressed up against Dean as Dean held him close. They were watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas and drinking big mugs full of Cas's famous homemade peppermint hot cocoa. Cas was just drifting off to sleep and Dean was watching him more than he was watching the movie, in awe at the way his beautiful husband was cuddled into his side, enjoying pressing a slow kiss into his hair as Cas smiled sleepily.   
“I love you, angel.”   
“Mmm. I love you-,” Dean's phone rang, cutting them off. Dean released his hold on Cas to lean over to the coffee table and pick it up. It was Nigel.   
“Hello?” Dean answered.   
“Dean! Just the man I wanted to talk to!”   
“Well . . . you did call my number so . . .”   
“How've you been? Better I hope?” Nigel asked, obviously referring to the incident that had caused Cas to break his contract with the show and run home on the night before the season finale to rescue Dean.   
“Yeah. Much better.”   
“That's good. And how's Cas?” Dean looked over to his husband, now sitting up, eyes wide and alert.   
“He's good.” Dean answered, knowingly keeping his sentences short and clipped.   
“I was just calling because I wanted to know if you'd be interested in becoming an all star for next season-,”   
“Would Cas be invited back?” Dean asked.   
“You know since he broke his contract we can't-,”   
“I think I'm good here, Crumpet. Sorry.” Dean heard Nigel sigh over the phone.   
“Are you really putting your husband before your career?” Nigel asked.   
“Of course I am.” Dean felt a funny sort of rage that made him want to chuckle and scream at the same time. “I'll always put him before everything. That's what love is, Nigel.” and with that, Dean hung up the phone. Cas put down his mug.   
“What was that about?” Cas asked him, eyes saddened as if he already knew.   
“The old crumpet wanted me back for next season.” Dean grumbled.   
“And you turned him down?!”   
“He said you couldn't be invited back because of everything last season, and . . . well, I'm not letting that stupid show come between us again. And then he asked if I was putting you before my career and . . . well you heard my end of the conversation.” Cas worried his lip.   
“Dean . . . I don't want you to put me before your career . . . there were extenuating circumstances last season that won't be here this time around, I'll be fine, if you want to go I'll support you one hundred percent.” Dean leaned forward and caught Cas's lips with his own, pulling Cas closer to him.   
“Babe, you're not ruining my career. I still have a great job at the juvenile center, and because of you, I got to dance on the Emmy's. What else could I want for my career?” Cas smiled a little but Dean could see he still felt guilty about it. “Come here.” Dean demanded, kissing Cas with more ferocity. Cas settled himself into Dean's lap and Dean ran his hands up the back of Cas's sweater, reveling in the little shudder Cas produced.   
“Your fingers are cold!” Cas accused, biting down on his lip playfully. Dean just chuckled and divested Cas of his sweater and undershirt. Cas shivered a little so Dean stood up, picking up Cas and the blankets he was wrapped in and took him in front of the fireplace, threw down the blankets, and then lay Cas gently onto them. “Oh how romantic. Now we're fucking in front of fire like cavemen.” Cas said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. Dean just kissed him again, silencing him. Cas was running his hands over Dean's chest as Dean settled himself in between Cas's legs and rolled his hips down, causing Cas to moan. He threw his head back and Dean kissed his angel's neck, causing Cas's hands to bunch up in his shirt. “Take your pants off!”   
“You sure are demanding tonight, you know that?” Dean chuckled breathlessly as he undid his fly and shimmied out of the jeans. Cas's hands were on him in an instant, reaching down and shoving down Dean's boxer briefs and kneading at his ass. “This situation is hardly fair, Mr. Winchester.” Dean chided at Cas, still half dressed. Cas just smirked at him wickedly before flipping them over and taking off his own pants and briefs. Dean sat up to meet Cas's mouth with his own before Cas shoved him back down.   
“I want to ride you, Dean.” Cas said, his voice dropping lower than it already was. Dean thought if Cas kept talking like that, he wouldn't even need to be touched.   
“Have to prep you first baby . . .” Cas looked away sheepishly.   
“No you don't.” Dean sat up on his elbows.   
“What do you mean?” Cas took one of Dean's hands and kissed his fingers before he lowered it so Dean's hand found a piece of plastic in Cas's hole.   
“Merry Christmas.” Dean felt his eyes widen comically.   
“Oh holy night.” he moaned at the feel of Cas's new plug. Cas rolled his eyes again.   
“Really, Dean?” Dean could tell Cas was going to berate him more so he pulled on the plug a little bit, causing Cas to moan and grind down on his hand. “Mmm I'm ready for you, babe.” Cas whispered as he nibbled on Dean's earlobe. Dean pulled the plug out all the way and Cas produced some lube from Santa-knows-where and lubed up Dean's dick before sliding it home within himself. Dean reached up and took hold of Cas's hips and Cas started to rock, looking like a freaking porn star in the fire light. Dean let out a noise that probably should've been embarrassing, but it was Cas, he stopped caring about such things a long time ago. Cas started to pound faster, rising his body almost all the way off and then slamming it back down. Dean could tell he was about to finish, but he wanted Cas right there with him. He reached up and took hold of Cas's cock, gripping it tight and giving it a few good strokes before they both finished with loud cries.   
As they lay in front of the fire, a tangle of long, sweaty limbs, Dean pressed another kiss to Cas's hair, and twirled around the wedding ring on Cas's finger. Cas hummed contentedly and smiled. “What are you thinking about?” Cas asked him. Dean looked up at him, blue eyes glowing in the flickering light, a faint pink blush along his cheekbones and lips that were kiss swollen and thought he'd never get used to how beautiful he was.   
“That I'm the luckiest man on earth.” Cas grinned at him, one of his heart breaking, earth shattering grins that lit up his entire face.   
“Why's that?”   
“Because I got saved by an angel,” Cas leaned down and kissed him so passionately Dean's breath was stolen away. Dean broke apart for a moment, panting heavily.   
“What's wrong?”   
“Just gotta catch my breath for a sec.” Cas leaned his forehead against Dean's and smiled.   
“Just breathe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Noooo it's overrrrrrr! Don't worry though, timestamps coming eventually! Let me know if you guys have something you want to see in those! What'd y'all think? Mega cheesy? Super mega cheesy? What kind of cheese? Let me know! Also thank you for all of your continued support. Y'all are the best and most of the reason I write. <3 ~Riveting Red Pants


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